#but I am older and have a different POV

[intramoon]

We are so back with Brutally Soft!! ⤷ story work in progress with me trying some new stuff we'll see how it goes!

[wileys-russo]

before the void sisters, the zoo, ‘fresa’s very committed to this tiger bit… who knows, could be permanent’

part of the fresaverse (wrote this in a bit of a different pov, hope it makes sense!) tigers II a.putellas

"alexiaaa, despertarse! despertarse!"

the brunette sighed tiredly as sunlight suddenly bathed her face from the curtains being tugged open, the sound of footsteps racing around her room causing the footballer to groan and tug the covers up and over her head knowing exactly who they belonged to.

"hermana look the sun is up, you told me i had to wait until the sun was up!" a small weight landed on top of her, hands grabbing at the covers alexia held firmly over her head, chuckling at the frustrated grunts sounding from her sister when she couldn't pull them off.

"despertarse ale its fresa day." the girl huffed, resorting to poking and prodding her repeatedly when she couldn't get the covers off. "the sun is up. usted lo dijo!" fresa scowled when there was still no signs of life from the older girl, having to take a different route.

"do you not love me anymore?" fresa asked quietly, scowl turning into a pout as within milliseconds the covers were thrown off and her sister sat right up, pulling fresa into a tight hug who grinned victoriously, face buried in her shoulder.

"te quiero muchísimo fresita." alexia chuckled, sensing the cheeky smile and hating that so easily could she be manipulated, but not for a second would she ever let fresa think she didn't care, or that she wasn't one of the most important things in her life.

"feliz cumpleaños diablito." alexia smiled, smoothing down the girls wild mane of bed hair with a snicker, little toothy grin shining up at her, the two missing teeth making it even more adorable than usual.

"six years old ah? soon you will be kicked out onto the street!" alexia teased, a laugh of delight leaving her sisters lips as she was tossed over her shoulder, the footballer swinging out of bed and standing to her feet.

"will not!" "will too, you need to get a job!" alexia smirked, carrying fresa out of her room and headed down the hallway, the smell of pancakes leading her to the kitchen where both eli and alba were already awake.

"jobs are for losers." fresa chirped, the latter her new favourite word since she'd learned it at school the other day, and now suddenly everyone and everything was a loser.

"playing football is my job. are you saying i am a loser pequeña?" her eldest sister asked with a sarcastic gasp, grabbing fresa's ankles and hanging her upside down, swinging her around as giggles filled the room.

"alexia." eli warned, trying to hide the smile on her face but knowing if the blood rushed to fresa's head right before breakfast she'd hardly be able to keep anything down, and there was a big day of birthday plans ahead.

"i agree with el bebé, you are a loser." alba snickered, unfazed by the withering side eye sent her way as alexia set fresa down properly, a hand on her shoulder steadying her as the six year old shook her head side to side to try and fight the dizziness.

"you can't call me that anymore. i'm six! not a baby." fresa finally retorted, blinking a few times and shrugging off alexia's hands, practically diving into eli who bent down for a hug, kissing all over her youngest daughters face despite her complaints.

"vamos monstruito, these will not eat themselves." alba set down a large stack of strawberry pancakes at the table, all three putellas women chuckling as fresa sprinted over and climbed up onto a chair, too impatient to even wait for cutlery.

"fresa!" alba winced as the girl grabbed a fistful of pancake and shoved it into her mouth with a content sigh, mumbling with a mouthful that they needed syrup as alba set it down with a roll of her eyes.

"its her birthday hija, let her do what she likes." eli chuckled as alexia sat down at the table, just able to snag an untouched pancake from the stack before her sister bore her teeth at her unimpressed at having to share.

"thats easy for you to say mami, you don't have to deal with her sugar rush at the zoo all day!" alba huffed, that being the main part of the six year olds birthday plans, the following a huge dinner with the whole family.

"don't forget about the other nenas. hopefully their parents gave them eggs for breakfast!" alexia chuckled, holding a hand over fresa's eyes and stealing another half a pancake which was gone by the time fresa could complain about it.

"mami why aren't you coming? they listen to you!" alba complained, three of fresa's classmates and friends accompanying everyone to the zoo today alongside alexias girlfriend jenni who fresa insisted had to come as well.

their tio dannys dog angel was also on the list however it had to be explained to fresa a few times that just because the zoo houses animals didn't mean you could bring in animals of your own.

"i have to cook! and your hermana is very excited to spend the day with you and ale, so be nice to her. ella te ama!" eli warned, pinching her middle daughters cheeks.

"mami do tigers eat pancakes?" fresa asked, her fascination for the orange striped creatures the main reason behind these birthday plans, learning all about them in school had sent them to the forefront of the young putellas's interest.

"no hija, tigers do not eat pancakes. but niñitas do if they want lots of energy for their gran día!" eli warned playfully, sipping on her coffee. "what do tigers eat? i want to be a tiger!" fresa perked up, practically vibrating in her chair with wide eyes.

"raw meat. aquí fresa you give me the pancakes and you can have thes-" alba started to grab out a pack of raw steaks, whining as alexias hand connected with the back of her head with a firm glare.

"mami! can we have raw meat for my special dinner tonight?"

~

"can we see the tigers now?" fresa asked for the tenth time since they'd entered the gates of the zoo, hanging off jenni's back who chuckled as alba dragged her hands down her face with a sigh.

"no fresa. again, the tigers are on the other side. you will see them later hermana!" alexia repeated, jenni quickly taking charge of the conversation to try and keep the topic away from the same questions.

"mira! allí!" fresa wriggled down off jenni's back, taking off toward the galapogas tortoises as her friends sprinted after her, alba racing after them trying to keep everyone together as a group while alexia and jenni hung back.

this seemed to be how most of the day went, fresa and her friends sprinting from animal to animal as the three older girls scrambled not to lose anyone, holding hands and giving piggy back and shoulder rides and rocket ships till their bodies ached.

until alexia had the genius idea to make them a little harder to lose, so then fresa with a tiger balloon she'd begged for tied tightly to her wrist, and matching big cats in the forms of lions and cheetahs all also attached to her friends, the four were much easier to track around the enormous zoo.

then finally, they reached what fresa had been asking for all day, her face pressed up against the glass causing her sisters to wince with disgust at how many germs were on the screen, and jenni to laugh at her obvious enthusiasm.

though it had seemed as if maybe they were dragging their feet to get to the tigers, it had been perfectly timed by alexia so that by the time they arrived it was near feeding time, the group of seven all taking front row seats to the show.

"ale mira! mira! mira!" fresa chanted with pupils blown out with joy, fingers pinching alexia's cheeks whose lap she was stood up on, pointing excitedly as the tigers all demonstrated how high they could jump.

"sí, puedo verlos fresita." alexia chuckled, kissing her sisters cheeks and holding onto her a little tighter as she leaned forward, jenni doing the same with two of fresa's peers who were climbing over her to get the best view.

"vale. who is hungry?" alexia clapped, having allowed them all to stay an extra twenty minutes after feeding, but still with a lot of ground to cover to see everything else before needing to get them all home.

luckily despite her dissapointment with having to leave, fresa having named all of the tigers and been shot down several times now that she could not bring one home as a pet, if there was any way to distract her, it was the promise of food.

"vamos tigrecitos, time to eat." alexia ushered them all out back toward the main path of the zoo, knowing there was a food court just up ahead which they all hurried away from.

"no pequeña it has to be cooked." alexia warned as again fresa requested her patty be raw. "why!" the six year old stomped with a scowl.

"because you will get sick nena." her sister answered a little sterner this time as fresa grunted unhappily, trudging back off toward the table alba had gotten them as jenni chuckled and ordered her a well done cheeseburger.

fully cooked lunches all downed, of course followed by ice creams and yet another sugar rush, the group continued on, at least easier to see now with their ballons still tied securely to them like homing beacons.

"ale! can we get our faces painted? por favor?" alexia felt a tug on her shirt, looking down to be hit with a full force puppy dog face from all four children in front of her, jenni laughing beside her at the group effort.

"sí fresita, go get in line with alba and jenni." alexia nodded, needing to use the bathroom, smiling as the six year old hugged her leg happily and took off.

as alexia returned from the bathroom she diverted into one of the gift shops nearby, hunting around for a perfect gift for fresa, putting a few things into a mental shopping cart as backups for if she couldn't find anything better.

but then, she found it, eagerly hurrying to the front to purchase it and tucking it away in a bag, stashed in her backpack for later tonight for the grand reveal.

returning to the others, alexia was surprised to see fresa was still with a clean face, the six year old perking up at her return and racing over to grab her hand. "what happened to the face paint eh?" alexia pinched her cheek teasingly.

"i let mis amigos go first. thats what being kind is, right?" fresa swung their intertwined hands with a smile that made alexia melt, nodding proudly and running a hand fondly through her mess of hair fresa had refused to let anyone tie back for her, even when alba tried to negotiate lions had manes, not tigers.

"sí hermanita, very kind."

~

it wasn't until later that evening that alexia revealed her hidden gift shop purchase, fresa with a face painted like a tiger and hopped up on a combination of paella, (not raw) steak and far too many sweets, bouncing around on the couch impatiently.

"ojos cerrados." alexia ordered, jenni taking over and covering fresa's eyes with her hands when she wouldn't follow through, their family all scattered around the house but still there was a small audience who watched on as alexia carefully placed her present in fresa's awaiting hands.

"now you can be un auténtico tigre nena." alexia smiled as jenni removed her hand and fresa gasped, the tiger onesie held to her chest as she launched herself off the couch and at her sister in a bear hug.

"go on pequeña, put it on." alexia set her down and shooed her off, fresa detouring to show every single family member she could find her new present, rattling off tiger fact after tiger fact as she did.

a few moments later with a ferocious roar the six year old reappeared, face still painted like a tiger and now clad in the bright orange and black striped oneside, she truly embodied her favourite animal and alexia was overjoyed at the grin on her face.

until maybe fresa took it one step too far, sharply biting alba on the hand causing her sister to take off after her and one of their cousins to hurry off to try and break it up.

jennis arm settling over alexias shoulder with a chuckle alba tackled fresa to the ground outside, eli hurrying off now yelling for them to get off one another.

"fresa's very commited to this tiger bit." jenni mumbled in her girlfriends ear, pressing a kiss to her cheek as alexia snickered, watching her mami carry the scowling six year old inside again by the hood of her onesie.

"who knows...could be permanent."

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 5

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: After a brief mention two weeks ago, Michael gives you a gift, making your feelings all the more complicated.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: y’all are so amazing!💜thank you for all the comments, reblogs, likes and follows! I’m so grateful you all are enjoying this as much as I am!! over 300 followers?? That’s crazy, thank you!!

Someone on ao3 said there needed to be more Robby pov and you know what? I agree! I tried my best lol

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: age gap, foul language, feelings angst, slowburn

not beta read

Butterflies invaded your stomach at the mere thought of him, the memory of his fingers on you — soft and fleeting. How warm his skin had been against yours, seared into your mind.

This is so stupid.

You thought to call Erin and ask her if this had ever happened to her, but there was a fear in saying anything. In calling attention to your feelings. Aside from the fact that he was not looking for anything, your arrangement was a glaring obvious fact that nothing truly could happen between you. Wouldn’t that break all the boundaries you had set with each other at the start? That was not even getting into your age difference, and the uneven balance it could create. He was so much older, it could never work.

Trying to distract yourself with work and studying and late nights with your friends, you still eagerly accepted any of his calls. He still planned a weekly one, but an unplanned call late at night became more frequent. You enjoyed those late night conversations, they were typically more raw and revealing than when he had time to think about what to say.

He had told you more about the hospital administration hounding him, and the third year resident he had taken under his wing some years past.

Toward the end of the conversation, he had asked to hang out.

“Maybe get take-out again, or something.” He suggested.

You contemplated it. Your laptop was giving you a headache, and you were half-tempted to throw it out a window. A little food and conversation might do wonders to make you feel better.

“I’d still like to try that Thai place.” You told him, playing with the hem of your sweater.

“That can be arranged.”

You laughed, “Tonight?”

“Yeah, meet me there at 7?”

—

Michael really had no excuse for the nerves that flooded his system. They nearly always did in your company, but the calm that would wash over him just a little bit later was bliss. It was nice to have someone to talk to — someone interested in his days without wanting to pry. It was freeing, almost, knowing you would still be there for him the following week even if he revealed his harrowed feelings.

There was a hopeful optimism, too — like it was all good practice for human connection. Yet, the thought of someone else on the other line or the other side of the table, it soured.

He was being stupid. He was being reckless.

The feelings in his chest were just simple, calm familiarity. It could never be anything more.

You were nearly half his age, and the thought of embarrassing himself at believing the feelings could ever be anything more made him tense up. The walls around his heart remained steadfast and strong.

Perhaps the whole arrangement was bleeding into something it shouldn’t be — and he thought to perhaps call the whole thing off.

He thought that, but he was already reaching for the phone to hear your voice.

The Thai place was crowded, but you were able to get a table. You were dressed in business casual, coming from work, and your top did wonders for your eyes. He admired you for a few moments in the lobby while you waited for a table, desperately trying to be subtle about it.

When you sat, you looked over the menu with interest and the quiet that settled over you was warm. Your orders were taken and you smiled, eyes roaming around the new restaurant.

“Have you still been pretty busy?” Michael asked.

“Never too busy for you.” You commented effortlessly with a smirk. “But yeah. Getting down to crunch time. Soon I’ll have to worry about getting my license.”

Your first comment made his heart stutter. I’m too old for this. But he was grinning.

“At least you’ll have school off your plate.” He said.

You gave an agreed nod, “I’m looking forward to that fact, oh my god.”

Michael chuckled.

“How was work yesterday?” You asked, looking genuinely interested.

You were good at that — making him want to open up, but some of his days were just too gruesome to tell you about. Too painful to share. You always had an ear open for him, regardless. Part of his mind whispered you were just doing as their agreement dictated, but he shoved that back down.

“It was…” A thousand words floated through his mind: Bad. Good. Terrible. Short-staffed. He settled on, “...fine.”

It was easy enough to see in your eyes that you did not believe him. Pretty eyes framed with long lashes, flickering from his face to your meal and back again. He hated how it felt not opening up all the way, but he feared he would swallow you whole.

He let out a long sigh through his nose, refusing to look at you. A thought was bubbling in his head, half-tempted to tell you about Adamson, feeling guilty for shutting you out. Not yet, I can’t yet, echoed in his head, memories burning in his mind of Adamson on the ventilator.

“Hey, hey, Mike.” You snapped him out of the images that haunted him, reaching across the table to hold his hand. “You got lost there for a minute…are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and you removed your hand, much to his disappointment. He covered it easily, smiling back at you.

“Well, I’m out with a very beautiful woman, so I’d say I’m okay.”

You stared at him, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, before quickly looking away from him. His heart picked up at your reaction, hope blooming. No—

“That’s—well—uh—thank you.”

He smiled, trying to brush all the thoughts swimming in his head aside. “I got you something.”

You sputtered, “What?”

“I got you a gift. I left it at my apartment, figured we could head back that way after we finished eating.” He explained, thinking of the box sitting on his couch. It had sat like a heavyweight in his living room all week.

“You…got me a gift?” Then, “You really didn’t have to do that, Michael.”

He shrugged sheepishly, “I wanted to.”

“Well, thank you. Really. That…you really didn’t have to.”

Michael tried to read all the emotions flickering across your face—shock, confusion, red eared embarrassment, and finally, gratitude.

He called for the check.

—

Warm feelings were swirling around in your stomach. The cool night air did little for your cheeks, or the heat that had crawled up your neck or wrapped across your chest, holding you tight.

A gift. He got me a gift. A gift. A goddamn gift.

Why the fuck had he gotten you something? A nausea rolled in, feeling like you owed him — even if his only intention had been to be kind. What was it? Did he see something simple, think of you and buy it? Did he go out searching for something to buy?

The possibilities ate away at your insides.

The walk into his apartment building was filled with quiet banter, which helped pull you back out of your head. You registered the look on the woman’s face as she had stepped off the elevator, giving Michael a side-eye, while you both stepped onto it. You swallowed thickly, turning your attention back to the man beside you.

“Maybe they just need a few games to get into the swing of things. I still have hope.” You told him, referencing the game the Penguins had played the day before.

Michael chuckled, “They’re a disappointment, but they’re still my team.”

“Sometimes I feel lucky when I’m too busy to watch them lose.” You laughed, moving beside him when you got to his floor.

You were nervous to be in his apartment again, but a part of you also enjoyed being surrounded by a space that was purely him.

“If it makes you feel any better, it can’t technically be a gift. I didn’t wrap it.” He said, glancing at you.

Your eyes moved around his apartment until they settled on the brown paper bag on his couch. Your heart started racing.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” you said with a small chuckle, looking over at him.

He had his hands in his pockets, side stepping to his couch to grab the gift. Seeing the size of it, you began guessing in your head as to what it could have been — a clothing box? Too big to be a book.

“Here you go.” His voice was so soft as he handed it over.

You lowered yourself onto his couch, taking it from him. It was heavy. Not unbearably so, but it had some weight to it. You smiled up at him before putting your hand into the bag, feeling the box inside.

He moved to sit next to you…impossibly close. Close enough to feel his body heat, feel the shadow of his form hovering.

Gut twisting, you pulled out the box, blinking down at what now laid in your lap. HP was written on the cardboard in large black lettering, and your heart completely stopped. The cardboard had been opened so it was easy enough to peek inside, all your thoughts stalling in your head at the sight of it.

An HP ProBook 460 G11.

A goddamn fucking laptop.

“Michael,” your voice squeaked out, heart hammering against your ribcage. “I can’t accept this. This is too much.”

“I know you were saying yours was giving you trouble.” He said, like it explained everything.

You finally removed your eyes from the box to look at him. He had a soft smile on his lips, but it still reached his eyes, crinkled in contentment. His brown eyes held an emotion you did not recognize, but it crept into your chest and curled up.

“I really can’t take this.” You breathed out, quiet since he was so close.

“It’s bad luck to give a gift back.”

“I thought it wasn’t technically a gift.”

He smirked, eyes flickering down to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes. “I want you to have it.”

And that seemed to settle it.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This was really, really nice of you. Thank you so much.”

He rubbed his hands down his legs, letting out a long breath, “Yeah, of course.”

You grabbed his wrist, forcing his attention back to your face. “I mean it, this…this was incredibly thoughtful. Thank you, Michael.”

“You’re welcome.” And there was your name, so pretty on his lips.

[ Next ]

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All Dr. Robby Content: @cherriready @kittenhawkk @seeyalaterinnovator

hahah I love a good build up, BUT KISS HIM

they’re so bad at feelings lol

sorry this chapter was shorter, I wanted to get some Robby pov in there. But surprise! the next part is already out🤗

[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count masterlist • series masterlist • part 2

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: I Need You Now But I Don't Know You Yet

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, Little bit sad, Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.3K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: IDK You Yet (Title of chapter based on song) Y'all should listen to this song because it fits so well!

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

A/N: Guys you have no idea how excited I am about this story! It's already shaking up to have a TON of my usual angst, but I'm not surprised.😅 I'm also a little disappointed. I read a soulmate AU fic forever ago for Joel Miller where the birthday was printed on the reader's arm and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called or find it. If y'all know what it is, please let me know. I'd love to read it again and give the writer a little bit of credit for inspiration. ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

January 24, 1919

The date on your right wrist haunted you, the bold black numbers mocking from the moment you learned what they meant. It had to be a celestial mistake, a misprint, something wrong in the stars that shone so brightly over others, but dulled above your head.

Sometimes you thought you were cursed, that some mystical being before your birth marked you, scarred you, and made you carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.

That whoever it was made you different on purpose and you hoped one day you understood what that purpose was.

You'd never met someone born with the same dilemma, to be saddled with a soulmate that was born over 100 years ago, and yet here you were.

You'd heard it all growing up, the hushed whispered "freak" from your schoolmates, the odd looks from your neighbors, the pitying frowns of your parents who had known each other since pre-k, and the hug from your older brother as he whispered the familiar phrase “it‘ll be okay" to soothe you.

But you always wondered…

When would it be okay?

You watched all your friends find their happy endings with their soulmates, the birth years printed on their wrists at least within the same few decades, but not you.

You were alone, different, cursed.

The date printed on your wrist made you different, because no one else had a soulmate that was born so far in the past.

Your soulmate's birthday brushed on your skin only brought a wave of disappointment every time you saw it, because what the hell did it mean? 1919? That meant that your soulmate would be over 100 years old when you met him, whoever it was.

If you even met him.

No one lives that long. My soulmate should be long dead. He can't still be alive. Can he?

Each year that passed was like another nail in the coffin, but you celebrated the birthday of your supposed soulmate with a cupcake and a beer, locked away in your apartment to shut out the jeers of those who knew your particular dilemma. And each year when you blew out the candle you wished that it would be the year you met him, but now you weren't sure it would ever happen.

Because it was impossible.

You didn't understand why you were different, why you were chosen to have a soulmate that was long dead. Maybe it was true, maybe you were born late, born under the wrong sign, or maybe you really were cursed.

You'd heard the stories of people who never found their soulmates, urban legends really, but it didn't make you feel any better. The stories of people who wasted away to nothing, driven to the point of insanity because they never found the other half of their soul, alone for as long as they could stand it before they finally crumbled to dust.

You refused to be like them, turning to books for solace and hoping to escape. Slipping into the pages and into other worlds where people found their other half to leave the loneliness that haunted you behind.

And in that solace your found your true love, literature. It wove around you and brought you peace in a world where you felt lost and different.

When you moved away from the small town you grew up in, you got a job as a Literature professor, reading the great works of others, while trying to forget about the date on your wrist and the soulmate you longed for each day.

It was incredibly lonely to think that you'd live your whole life with only one half of your soul.

Every time you opened a book from the era your soulmate was supposed to be born in you wondered if he had read it, wondered what it was like to live in that time, and imagined what it would have been like to be there with him.

Each day you covered up the date on your wrist with a splash of foundation and playfully laughed it off whenever someone asked you if you'd found your soulmate yet. All the while spending year after year fading just a little bit more as you lost the last pieces of hope that you'd ever meet him.

One Year Ago

You were running late. Frankly you were always running late, but in the city that never sleeps it was to be expected.

It was supposed to be a big day. You had about a hundred papers to grade, a test to proctor, and three lectures to give, but you couldn't complain about your job, you loved it. Loved the groans of your students whenever you announced a test or an essay, loved the soft evenings where you read papers with a cup of tea and learned what in the assigned text was special to your students, and loved to teach from the books that had become home to you, the books that tried to heal your wounded heart.

But today something was different.

Something nagged at the back of your mind, as if you had forgotten that something else was supposed to happen today.

Haircut? No that's not it.

You think as you walk to the large wooden desk in your living room/bedroom. It was technically a dining room table, breakfast table, and your desk, but you'd loved it since the moment you found it tucked into a corner of an antique store in Brooklyn.

Your small studio apartment was quaint, the bedroom and living room divided by a large mid-century wooden screen that you had bought for twenty bucks at a thrift store the weekend you moved into your apartment five years ago. The living room only housed a plump cream colored couch that faced out the window towards the living room window that gave you a spectacular view of the alley between your apartment building and the next. Sometimes you got to watch the couple in the apartment across from you having a terrific fight and then got a front row seat to the loud make-up sex they had almost immediately after.

Large stacks of books dominated every wall stretching up as high up to the ceiling as they could reach, some were pressed against the exposed brick walls, others serving as the base for the coffee table you’d made with a vintage window, and of course there was one stack that towered high above your bed on top of your bedside table.  You didn't own a tv, not when you spent most of your time reading.

Being a English professor meant that you could never have too many books not when they were like old friends that pulled you in whenever you opened their yellowing pages.

Meeting with the head of the English department? You bite the inside of your cheek as you shove your notebook, planner, pencil case, and laptop into your leather messenger bag. No, that's on Thursday.

You'd been working on a research paper that you hoped to publish about the Modern Period of Literature in America, but the head of the English Department wanted to see how much you'd done. In all honesty the only reason why you'd started studying the Modern Period of literature was because it was supposedly the time period in which your soulmate grew up and you thought that it would give you some insight into what his life was like. 

And despite your being an expert on that time period, the head of the English Department did not share your enthusiasm for it. The only thing the head of the English Department had any enthusiasm for was his self-published book of erotic poetry and staring at your legs for too long while making subtle attempts for you to sleep with him even though he was married.

You fight the wave of revulsion with the memory of the last time you had a meeting with him and give yourself a once over in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door that faces in to your living room. You looked the way that you always did, maybe a little more frantic than usual, but that was expected given the fact that you were running late.

Today you had decided to wear your favorite dark green chunky sweater that you'd knitted yourself, a dark gray argyle midi-skirt, chestnut brown ankle high-heeled leather boots, and your traditional pair of circular black-rimmed glasses.

It's going to be a good day. You smile at your reflection. Yeah, if I could remember whatever the hell it is I've forgotten.

You roll your eyes and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.

No time to toast it.

You think mournfully before shoving it between your teeth as you run out the door, slamming it behind you so hard that it rattles the watercolor botanical framed prints on the inside wall of the apartment.

"Late again?" Your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson, asks opening the cheerful yellow door of her apartment.

She was wearing her traditional pink cat eye glasses and had her wavy gray hair pushed back by a floral headband. When you'd moved in five years ago, she had brought over some cinnamon swirl muffins and a pot of blueberry tea. She'd just lost her own soulmate and husband of sixty-five years and was looking for a friend about as much as you were.

And although she had about eighty cats, all of which who were named after literary figures (your own cat was named Heathcliff), and often smelled like mothballs, you enjoyed spending time with her. She knew about your dilemma and didn't judge you for it. She didn't throw you a pitying look or make outrageous comments about why you'd been chosen to never meet your soulmate. If anything she acted like the way you thought your mother always should but never did. Not with judgement as your mother did, but with concern and love.

"Always." You shout back, muffled around the sesame seed bagel, stamping your foot to get your boot in the right position.

"Tea later?"

"Mhmm."

"Get some earl gray macaroons!"

You make it down the stairs successfully without falling, before throwing yourself against the door that leads into the black and white tiled lobby. Your high heeled boots clack loudly against the floor and you step out onto the crowded sidewalks of the early morning.

Fall was just beginning in the city, your favorite season. The leaves in Central Park were turning reddish brown and yellow and there was a wonderful chill that swept through the crowded streets.

You wove through the people, walking in the direction of NYU and looking down at the antique wristwatch perched on your left wrist to confirm what you already knew- that you were going to be late for your 8:00 am lecture on 20th Century American Romantics.

Shit.

The city is lively for a Monday morning. The chatter of people on phones, the buzz of traffic, the high pitched screech of horns, and the smells of the city wafted over you. It was so different from the small town you grew up in, but you loved being here. Here no one knew you, no one judged you, no one muttered something under their breath about you, and no one grabbed their children and crossed the street as if you were contagious.

You felt free.

You round the corner still looking down at your watch, weaving in and out of the foot traffic the best you can, when someone bumps into your shoulder. Whoever hit you was solid, broad, and much taller than you. The bagel drops from your mouth as you jostle from the bump, and you let out a low groan.

There goes my breakfast.

You look up prepared to curse out the offender when you stop. Whoever it was hadn't stopped moving, but you catch a flash of his bright green eyes as he passes, meeting yours for only a moment.

But that moment seems to last a lifetime.

He was tall with wild dark brown hair so long it touched his shoulders and a scraggly beard that fell over his chest almost to his collarbones. He looked dirty,  almost worn, and was wearing a faded maroon track suit that had some writing on the sleeve in another language that you couldn't place. But his eyes were a brilliant green, so beautiful that they took your breath away.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, your skin hums, body lightening, warmth unfurling like the petals of a flower in the center of your chest curling outward reaching for the sun above. All sounds of the city vanish, leaving you only with the manic thud of your heart. Everything in your body turns towards the man, cells vibrating, reaching out, wanting more, begging you to grab him and hold him close. Electricity pulses and dances along your skin making your hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt along your flesh.

The birthday inscribed by the stars on your wrist sears against your skin like a brand beneath the foundation you smeared over it this morning. You look at him as if seeing for the first time, as if the past years of your life have been colorless, as if you'd been living in a cave for centuries and he's your first glimpse of sunlight, and as if you'd never seen the stars and he's the midnight sky.

You'd never felt any of this before.

The man's eyes widen as he looks at you, people passing between the two of you in a faceless blur, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He has to…

But the man shakes his head and turns his back on you continuing on his path down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait-" You start to say, but your phone rings loudly in your pocket breaking the spell, and as you look down to retrieve it, you lose the man in the crowd.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of your day is chaotic, almost a blur, your body still humming from seeing that man on the street, wrist aching where the birthdate on your wrist burned against your flesh so hot that it seared through the foundation you brushed meticulously over the skin this morning to cover it up. It was no longer black, but flashed a brilliant gold with every shift of your wrist in the light as you moved your arm when teaching, peeking out beneath the sleeve of your sweater. Every flash distracted you from your lecture. Even your TA, Tate, who sat in the front row of your class began to notice how often you lost your train of thought.

You barely got through your 8:00 am lecture, stumbled through you 9:00 and 10:15, and canceled your 2:00 class much to the chagrin of your students who were expecting a test.

When Tate finally asked you if you're feeling alright, you wave a hand and tell him to take the rest of the day off, while you barricaded yourself in your office and stared at your wrist for hours, running your hands over the golden date confused. The birthdays always shone gold after two people found one another, and when your soulmate died, it went back to black, as if a reminder that the world had faded.

It was weird to see it shine so brightly when you'd lived your whole life staring at the mark and wishing for it to go away.

But he's not here, he's gone. I don't know where he went or how to find him…

Your friends back home described finding their soulmates before, tried to explain to you what it was like when they locked eyes with them for the first time, but everyone was different. No one could describe exactly how they felt when it happened.

Deep down you thought that it should feel like what happened when you locked eyes with the man on the street, like nothing else existed, just him and you but-

He acted like it was nothing like I was just another person and not the other half of his soul.

You swallow the lump in your throat, emotion from a lifetime of disappointment building, and finally the tears begin to crest and fall over your cheeks. You'd never heard of a one sided soulmate before, of only one person feeling drawn to the other one.

Then again, I've never heard of someone printed with the date of a soulmate who was born so far in the past.

Seeing him for the first time was like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp spike, followed by the force of gravity jolting you into reality.

But why him?

You think again about how weathered he looked, like he'd been living under a rock for the past hundred years. And then you see the flash of his brilliant green eyes again in your mind, just for a fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the warmth trail along your skin, like the soft caress of a lover.

Was he really born in 1919? Or was this just another joke? Another way for the universe to laugh at me?

Frustrated tears blur your eyes as you stroke the birthdate on your wrist, heart breaking all over again, because it seemed that even if you had found the man the universe designated for you, he didn't care.

One Year Later: Present Day

You sigh loudly and hold up another dress in front of your body looking at yourself in the mirror. You had no idea what you were going to wear to Annie and your brother Hughie's housewarming party and you only had about another thirty minutes before you had to leave.

Your brother had been living in New York longer than you had, but he still made time for you. The two of you got lunch every week and it was your fault that he met Annie.

Meeting her yourself had been a complete fluke. You'd been sitting at your favorite bench in Central Park by the pond, reading your favorite book, allowing the gentle prose of the author to whisk you away for a few minutes, when someone sat down beside you and promptly began to cry.

And when you asked her what was wrong she'd told you everything about her problems at work and although you'd never been the best at comforting other people, you'd taken her to the closest coffee shop and the two of you had bonded over Chai Tea lattes.

You'd invited her over to watch a movie with your brother one Saturday night and then had a front row seat when the two of them realized that they were meant to be together. You'd tried to be happy for them, but the whole time Annie gushed about Hughie and Hughie stared at her like she was the last glimpse of the sun before it dropped below the horizon all you could think about was that it would never happen to you.

And now one year later, the two of them were finally moving in together in a fancy apartment uptown and you didn't want to imagine what the rent was. Your own studio was enough for you and you were lucky enough to have one that was rent controlled.

But you figured due to Annie being one of the Seven, she was probably making more than your measly teaching salary could ever amount to.

Learning that she was Starlight had been surprising, you weren't a supe, not even close and you didn't want to be. You had your hands full with teaching college kids, and didn't want to think about what it would be like to have superpowers or really what you would do with them. You certainly didn't need them to be a teacher and you didn't want to have them.

Plus, you always worried that you'd get some weird power like shooting webs out of your butt or making it rain blood. You didn't want to take that chance and shooting up Compound V felt like Russian Roulette.

You also worried about your brother working so closely with supes. The two of you hadn’t met any growing up and you worried that he was putting himself in danger every day when he went out to deal with them. But you were happy that Annie went with him, because you knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she loved him too much.

As you hold up a black dress in the mirror you see a flash of the golden birthdate on your arm, and you're unable to fight the emotion that builds in your chest when you do.

It had been a year since it happened, since you locked eyes with a complete stranger on the street and felt your soul intertwine with his and he turned his back on you.

You'd understood that.

Understood that for some reason he decided to turn away like you meant nothing to him, like you weren't the other piece of his soul, and like a part of him didn't call out to you, a lighthouse over a stormy sea to a sinking ship.

It had broken you more than the first time you realized what the date on your arm meant. It always seemed ridiculous that something that brought happiness to millions of others made you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you.

And in that moment on the street something felt right for a few seconds, you felt whole for the first time in your life, only to have everything dashed against the rocks all over again.

But you hadn't forgotten him, couldn't forget him. His green eyes haunted you and each night you dreamed of him.

You saw pieces of his life, his memories, felt his pain, his anger, his frustration, and deep down his fear whenever you fell asleep. You'd never heard of that before, of a soulmate dreaming the memories of another.

You'd asked your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson if she had dreams of her soulmate's memories, she'd said no, but then she said that she'd heard about it, thought that it was only a myth, but it meant that the souls were fated to spend more than one lifetime together.

As if you knew what that meant.

It had broken your heart even more when she said that, because if that were true why did he turn away?

How could he turn away? Why did he leave me standing in the street and acted like I wasn't his other half?

It made you think that maybe he wasn't impressed with you and that he was disappointed that you of all people were his soulmate.

You'd had a mental breakdown at Mrs. Charleson's apartment when you went home early the day you met your soulmate or whatever the hell he was.

She'd made blueberry tea and rubbed you back. And when the tea hadn't worked she had cracked a bottle of red wine and ordered greasy takeout food that the two of you ate on her floral couch while her cats circled like sharks looking for a piece of your chicken and broccoli.

You would have called Annie, but she and Hughie were out of town on a long weekend getaway.

And when you went back to your apartment and crashed into your bed, you'd dreamt of him for the first time.

The memories you'd seen when you closed your eyes that night were not happy at all. You'd seen the early years of his life being berated by his father, years of him drinking and fucking his sorrows away, and then the worst, him being tortured in what looked like a lab. He was a supe, that much you could gather from the memories. But they were filled with pain, suffering, frustration- you'd never met someone who'd been through so much before. Endured so much torture.

You still didn't know his name, didn't see enough of his life to figure out who he was, only that he was different than you in almost every single way. The memories were terrible, filled with blood, death, and pain. It scared you to see your soulmate that way, see him so angry and see him hurt and kill people. You couldn't imagine the kind of man he was, the kind of man who could burn someone beyond recognition and feel absolutely nothing.

It was confusing. You didn't understand how someone who was supposed to be the other half of your soul, was the complete opposite of you. Someone that was filled with so much rage and pain was the man the stars declared was for you.

It doesn't matter anyway. He saw you and didn't want you.

You ignore the lump of emotion in the back of your throat and hold up a navy blue dress, but you hang it back in your closet with a sigh. Nothing seemed to be appropriate for you to wear to the party and you hadn’t been shopping for a new outfit in ages. Not to mention you knew that no matter what you wore Annie would look flawless.

You loved your brother's soulmate, but sometimes you were intimidated by how pretty she was and how together she was. It made you a little self-conscious about the long skirts, sweaters, and blazers you wore when you were at work and you were not together at all.

You seemed to always be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, frantically running from place to place and trying not to lose the last bit of sanity you had left. While Annie was confident, poised, and glided into each room.

Finally, you reach for a pair of your favorite blue jeans and the same green chunky knit sweater you were wearing the day that you saw him for the first time. The sleeves were long enough to cover the mark on the wrist. You hadn't told your brother or Annie about that day and you didn't want them to see the golden date on your wrist and ask you where your soulmate was.

Guess I'm going a little more casual today.

On your way out you give your cat, Heathcliff, an affectionate scratch behind the ears and grab your purse. You were running a little early this time, early enough to pick up a Snake Plant around the corner at your favorite plant shop, 'Please Don't Die,' as a housewarming gift and then stopped at the liquor store next door to grab a bottle of Annie's favorite wine.

You figured that you'd end up staying late and drinking wine with her long after the party was over.

Hughie opens the door of the apartment when you knock. "Thank God you're here! Annie is freaking out and driving me up the wall-"

"No I'm not! I'm just expressing all the things that have to be done within the next five minutes or I really am going to go crazy!" You hear his soulmate shout back when Hughie lets you in.

The apartment is fancier than yours, all white walls and glass windows that display a view you would kill for. Your brother is wearing a nice light blue button down shirt and navy tie, and his hair is it's usual fluffed and curly self. He looks happy and it warms a piece of your heart because you knew how much that he deserved it. And that's all you wanted for your older brother.

Annie appears, wearing a white dress that wraps over one shoulder and falls to her ankles, effortlessly elegant as usual. It made you feel self-conscious that you'd worn jeans, when Annie was wearing something that made her look like a Greek goddess.

"I am so underdressed." You mutter to yourself

"No! You look great babe. I love those jeans on you." She smiles pulling you in for a hug.

"Well-"

"But please let me do something with your hair." Annie touches the messy bun at the back of your head making a face.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spruce it up a little bit for you."

"But-"

Annie pulls the bottle of wine and the plant from your arms and shoves them at Hughie. "We'll be right back." And with that she drags you to their shared bedroom.

20 minutes later your hair has been perfectly curled and styled by Annie's skillful hands. She'd even adjusted your make up so that now you're wearing a bold red lipstick and a dark eyeshadow that matches your ensemble. And even you have to admit that you look better than you did moments ago. You usually didn't wear that much makeup, sometimes it made you feel like you weren't you, but what Annie had applied seemed stylish.

"Thanks Annie."

"Of course." She smiles brightly and leads you back out into the large kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and real marble countertops. "How have you been? Did you finish that paper you were writing?"

By now several people have already begun to gather at different parts of the apartment, talking quietly with one another, while sipping drinks and eating finger food. The sound of their chatter is masked by the Billy Joel song playing from the speaker in the corner.

"Yeah. I submitted it, now I'm just waiting for the department head to read it." You frown at the thought.

"You don't think he'll like it?" She moves to the freezer to grab a bag of ice.

"Dale doesn't like the modern period of literature as much as I do so I'm expecting him to have a lot of critiques and reasons why he doesn't like it." You take the bag from her and set it on the counter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it. He's never ecstatic about my research work." The thought makes you frown. "Even though he knows it's my specialty and the reason why he hired me."

"Isn’t he the creepy married guy that keeps trying to take you to dinner and wrote all those sensual poems about women who sound nothing like his wife?"

"Yep."

"Ew." Annie's face scrunches up in disgust.

"My thoughts exactly." You sigh looking around the kitchen for an ice bucket. "Do y'all have an ice bucket somewhere or-"

"It should be in that cabinet." She points behind you just as you hear someone knock loudly on the front door.

"Perfect."

The ice bucket is acrylic, see-through, and light pink, but you find it easily. The ice clanks against the sides as you pour, not bothering to watch Hughie open the door for whoever it was that hit the front door of the apartment with so much force you thought it would cave in.

Annie leans against the counter pouring herself a glass of wine and groans to herself when she sees who Hughie was greeting.

"What's wrong?" You ask her, your tongue between your teeth as you try not to spill any of the ice over the perfect countertops.

"I didn't think he would come." She grumbles.

"Who?"

"Ben." Annie all but sighs the name.

"And why didn't you want him to come?" You ask, pouring more ice into the bucket.

"He's just kind of rough-"

"Rough?"

"He works with Hughie. He's a supe. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread or whatever.” She sighs again and takes a sip of her white wine to calm down. "Actually he used to be Soldier Boy."

"Soldier Boy? You mean the supe from the 80's that died?"

Hughie didn't tell me he had a dead man working with him.

"It's a long story." Annie waves her hand as if to dissipate the thought, but it doesn’t make you any less curious. "Now he works at the bureau with Hughie trying to keep supes in check. Usually he and Butcher bump heads."

"Oh."

Hughie didn't talk much about what he did with Butcher, or really who he met, but after Homelander disappeared and Stormfront took over as leader as the Seven more supes began to come out of the woodwork, supes that had been afraid before, but now had no one to keep them in check. And although The Seven were feared in the city, no one was feared as much as Homelander.

"I'm sure that he won't try anything Annie. And if he does I'll keep him in check." You smile at your friend.

It's her housewarming party and supe or no if he's a prick I'm going to kick his ass out. Annie doesn't deserve to feel stressed today of all days.

"Thanks babe."

"What are friends for?"

She squeezes your arm and walks away to talk with MM who stands with a little girl who must be his daughter. You'd only spoken to him a handful of times, but he was always eager to talk about her achievements in school. He was so proud of her that it made your heart warm. Her mother wasn't his soulmate, but there hadn't been any hard feelings between MM and his daughter's mother.

That wasn't unusual. You'd known several people who decided to date other people before meeting their soulmate as a way of passing the time. You'd always thought it was ridiculous to commit yourself to someone else and fall in love with them, only to have your heart broken when they met who they were meant to be with.

It was why you hadn't tried to date anyone, because you might have never met your soulmate, but the other person you'd be in a relationship with would. And you didn’t want to give your heart to someone only to have them leave you when they met their other half. Which meant that you were probably going to die alone, especially because your soulmate doesn't want you. It hadn't helped that you'd seen a few memories from your own soulmate with other women over the years, women that didn't look anything like you, women that seemed more confident, more beautiful, and more stylish than you.

Maybe that's why he didn't want me.

Your feel the familiar twinge in your chest when you thought that and fought the tears that burned when you thought of how happy Annie and Hughie were. You didn't want to cry at their party.

The familiar question rises in your head again:

When will it be okay?

Probably never.

You turn toward the freezer holding the now half-full bag of ice intent on putting it back when someone bumps into you. The bag slips from your hands and ice goes skittering across the perfect hardwood floors in every direction, but just when you start to drop to pick it up, you feel a large hand grip your shoulder.

A gasp escapes from your mouth as it makes contact.

As soon as the palm touches you, you feel nothing else, not the shift of the sweater against your skin, not the slight chill from the air conditioner, not the brush of your hair against your cheeks, all you feel is the warmth radiating through your clothes and soaking into your skin from the person's hand.

The hand moves to cup your chin gently, the shock of the person's skin touching yours makes the feeling increase ten-fold as the hand tilts your face up to meet the eyes of the person who bumped into you.

You know it's him before your eyes meet his, know that it's the man from the street who you saw for only a few seconds a year ago, but this time when his beautiful green eyes meet yours everything you felt that day comes roaring back.

He's taller than you remember, shoulders proud and broad stretching a dark gray button down shirt over his chest that have the sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms. His hair is shorter, still dark brown, but now only long enough to cover the tops of his ears and his beard is shaved so that only a thick dusting covers his cheeks, but it's still him. And he's more handsome than any version you could come up with in your mind.

All sound in the room vanishes, the drone of chatter fades, the clinking of glasses disappears, the only sound that remains is your own heart thudding in your chest and you swear you can hear his beating at the same frequency, both of your hearts calling out to one another.

Your entire body feels like it's vibrating, as if every cell is moving so fast that they're heating you from the inside, leaving behind a molten puddle of what you used to be. A golden cord weaves around the two of you securing your heart to his in your mind, making you gasp as it hooks to his heart binding his soul to yours. Time stops as he gazes at you, something brightening in his green eyes as they absorb your own gaze.

The man doesn't move. It almost looks like he's stopped breathing, and you realize that you haven't taken a breath since he touched your shoulder. His eyes drop down to your right wrist where your hand rests over his heart, where he knows his birthday will be.

You don't remember reaching out to touch him, but now that you realize it, you can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of your hand like a fluttering bird, gentle and judging by the memories you had witnessed from him, nothing about this man was gentle.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles down at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, the autumn sun warm against your back, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze spark to life in your chest.

A/N: I hope y'all loved the first chapter as much as I loved writing it! I've never written a soulmate AU, so I am a little nervous about it, but I think that it's going to be a lot of fun! And yes, I did give Ben the same birthday as Dean Winchester (not the same year). In my head Ben is Dean from a different universe, and it just made sense to me. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 😊 If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know! :)

Taglist:

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn @deangirl96 @kr804573

@roseblue373 @52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

[gguk-n]

Notes & Nitrous (Oscar Piastri x Jeon Jungkook's labelmate!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Face claim- IU

{Jungkook's POV}

Y/N was always nice, that was her personality. She wasn't nice because she wanted to be an idol but she was genuinely nice from the moment I met her. She was the first female solo artist under our label and debuted soon after we did. Those were tough time; while Y/N made a name for herself domestically, we were able to expand internationally which in turn brought more traffic to our company. She would always joke about how we helped her go to concerts overseas. She got along well with the other members too; but there was always something different between us, or so thought.

We were both teenagers when we became trainees. She would always ask us questions and for help and she was the only one who could call me oppa and get away with it. Even the fans noticed how she could call me oppa and no one else. When I think about it, it's mostly because I had a huge crush on her. I was in love with her for years but us dating would be scandalous so we never did, or I never asked.

Everyone treated her like BTS's younger sister. I couldn't imagine it. I wish I had the guts to ask her out.

Y/N was promoting at the same time as I was promoting seven. Going to music shows became exciting because I would find Y/N back stage and we would be goofing off. "Why'd you have to promote seven now?" she whined playfully. "Why?" I asked confused. "I can't win a single time now, until your song stops being nominated" she laughed. "I can stop" I stated. "No, no, oppa, I was joking. The fans love the single; I was just teasing you. I've won enough trophies at this point" she quickly corrected.

We were both done with our promotions and were at the company recording. I had asked her to do a demo for a few of my songs and she was giving feedback on how I could do them. I saw how her eyes sparkled and the way it made my heart beat really fast when she spoke. I found myself staring at her lips, I have no clue what took over me but I suddenly kissed her. She stopped speaking and then I felt it, the sudden push. "Oppa" she screamed. I was shocked, the feeling of her lips still on mine as I traced my lips. "What was that?" she asked. "I...I like you Y/N, so much for so long now" I mumbled. Her shoulders slumped, "I'm sorry oppa but I don't feel that way." she said. "I thought..." I trailed off. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I just hope you will forget this" she said. "Why? Is it because of the dating ban" I asked. "What? NO, Oppa, we are veterans at this point. I just never saw you as anyone but an older brother. Someone to lean on or ask for help" she explained. My heart shattered and I couldn't even say anything. I felt tears prick my eyes. "I'm sorry, I really am. I just hope we can be friends" she begged. "I'm sorry Y/N but I need time. Can you leave?" I asked. "I'm sorry again. I hope we can be friends again" she said while walking out.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri and 267,803 others

y/n.y/l/n 3 sold out shows in Melbourne!! Thank you everyone who came. Can't wait to see you guys in Manila next!💗💗

user8 언니 너 ��무 예뻐 🥹🥹unnie you are so pretty user9 Love all your shows❤️❤️ user10 Oscar was at that show and I saw him too, I think I can die happy now😭😭 user11 She doesn't have a bad angle🥵🥵 user12😘😘 oscarpiastri 🤤🤤 user13 please behave yourself Oscar🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

{Oscar's POV}

I walked into the McLaren garage for the meeting before the race when Zak introduced me to Y/N Y/L/N. They listened to me and invited her, when did they ever do that, my brain was short circuiting. She raised her hand to greet me, "I'M A HUGE FAN" I blurted out, quickly covering my mouth. She smiled, "I saw, the fans were talking about some Oscar at my show, so I checked and they didn't disappoint" she said winking at me. I could die happy now. "It's nice to meet you, you've helped my fan base expand" she chuckled. I laughed nervously. She turned her attention to Lando who had walked in and spoke to him for a few moments while I watched.

"Mate, you're sweating so much, don't be nervous you drive Formula One cars for a living for fucks sake" Lando joked as he saw me stare at her. "How can I not? She's my celebrity crush" I stated. "Ask her out" Lando said simply. "What? NO?" I denied. "Come on, she was flirting with you since she got here. The worse she could say is no and you will never see her" Lando reasoned. "But..." I stammered. "You wanted to meet her that's why you asked to invite her and now that she's here you won't even shoot your shot" Lando questioned.

So, eventually I did pluck up the courage and walked up to her. She was taking a few pictures when I stood in front of her, "Hey Oscar" she greeted putting her phone away. "Hi. Are you in town for a few more days?" I asked. "yeah, my concerts in a few days" she said. "Would you like to go out with me?" I asked trying to sound as confident as I could be. She smiled, "yes, I would love that" she said. "Great! Then dinner tomorrow at 8?" I suggested. "Done. Can't wait" she commented. I walked to the car with a pip in my step, my celebrity crush just said yes to going out with me.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 890,296 others

y/n.y/l/n First formula one race of my life!! Thank you mclaren for having me🧡🧡

mclaren don't mention it but you should thank our driver tbh😏🤔 user14 no way Oscar suggested to invite her🥹🥹 user15 She looks so good in orange, I could never😘😍😍 user16 that outfit😍😍 user17 Is no one gonna talk about how she changed her outfit at the paddock?🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️ user18 I would've fainted if I was Oscar🫣👀👀 landonorris user18 he almost did🫢🫢 user18 landonorris OMG!! YOU RPELIED oscarpiastri we loved having you, come back soon🧡 Liked by the author y/n.y/l/n oscarpiastri I would love to be back if you'll invite me😉 user19 what is going on between Oscar and Y/N?😌🫣 user20 user19 they're just being nice to each other, shut up🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

[oh-no-its-bird]

*falls out of a tree with a yelp*

There needs to be more people horny gripping for 40 year old Tobirama. Not enough people got to appreciate him. So I propose....

Tobirama and Kagami being yeeted back in time together via, Tobirama trying to save Kagami during his last stand but his blood loss made him have less control over his teleportation and instead of moving towards his other students Tobi moved himself and Kagami to the past. They proceed to do the usual of, making the village happen sooner as the norm of Naruto time travel fics lol

Except now Kagami is trying to keep Madara and/or Izuna from fucking his dad, who is not helping because he thinks this is funny. Do the brothers have Daddy Issues? Maybe...but older Tobirama go BRRRRRRRRRR

I am ringing the bell in the town square yelling ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡ OLD MAN FUCKER !!!!!¡¡¡¡ THERES AN OLD MAN FUCKER IN MY INBOX !!!!!!!! For all to hear

Kidding but only bc 40 isn't old enough to make u eligible for the title. Still ringing the bell tho

I'm in fucking tears tho that would be such a great crackfic.

Older Tobirama time travels w Kagami and instead of being a tense political drama ab the differences between his younger self and older (in some ways, both versions are harder and softer than eachother— just in different departments) and what this means for the future of Konoha. And the implications of having 2 Tobiramas and 2 Kagami's, and how older Tobirama must decide what to do about Madara's inevitable defection.

Instead of all that. It's just 11k words of Madara horny gripping his thighs, breathing heavily as he stares at older Tobirama from across a peace talk table as Izuna screams into a paper bag and Hikaku looks like he's having an out of body experience.

Make it funnier actually. Trick the readers and make the first bit of the fic like. Super serious and from (young) Tobirama's POV

He is living in that tense political drama ab facing the man he will one day grow to be, and meeting his future adopted son (who is an uchiha!!!) And all these implications and heavy moral dillemnas of that peace really means and if he will allow it to soften himself like it has done to this older him. But also if he will allow it to harden himself too— but then, won't that happen anyways as the years go by?

Then like halfway through the chapter u get the Madara POV and it's just him screaming internally ab how bad he wants to hit that.

The things he wants to do to that man...the things he wants that man to do to him...... he is mentioning these Things(tm) to Izuna and Izuna punches him in the face then screams to never talk to him again and runs away to probably scream into a pillow for an hour.

Hikaku tries to talk to Madara and learns More Than He Needed To Know and promptly stands up and power walks away

Meanwhile Izuna is actually attracted to older Tobirama but unlike Madara, who seems to be overwhelmed with it enough to cancel out any other thoughts and feelings, is really fucking mad about it

He wants to climb him like a tree. He also wants to murder him in his sleep. These two things are not mutually exclusive.

Hikaku approaches him, intending to commiserate ab Madara / let Izuna vent a bit bc hes clearly wound up and needs it. Only for Izuna to let slip his own (honestly much more alarming) fantasies. Hikaku is fucking going THROUGH it.

Meanwhile, (young) Tobirama in the bg, seeing none of this: "The true nature of peace...can someone like me really help create such a thing?"

(Older) Tobirama is enjoying the show and absoloutley aware of his effect.

Kagami needs him to STOP. This is the worst thing to ever happen to him in his life.

Uhh endgame one or both Tobirama's end up sleeping w Hikaku (the younger version possibly getting into a relationship w him after the elder leaves?) bc this is the funniest outcome to me. And Madara and Izuna lose their fucking minds ab it

[pshcomforts]

➳ older | psh.

non!idolsunghoon x fem!reader (feat. jaemin and jisung from nct)

“think i need someone older, just a little bit colder”

synopsis: sunghoon is your brother’s friend who you’ve grown up with, but now you guys share lingering kisses and quiet touches.

warnings/content: written in third pov. suggestive content! tension. sunghoon gets jealous and possessive (who’s surprised). he’s also very confident in here. age gap (reader is 18). introverted y/n. cursing and not proofread.

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 5.4k

a/n: fictional characters — dae (jungwon’s boyfriend), min-su (heeseung’s girlfriend), and ji-woo (jake’s girlfriend).

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: older by isabel larosa

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

0:39 ─────|────────────── -1:37

it was a normal, sunny day in the house of y/n and her brother. it had only been the two since their parents had left town for the week.

“hey, i’m gonna have my friends over. stay in your room,” the male said to her.

she gave an eye roll along with a disgusted look in return. “whatever, its not like i talk to your friends,” but she did.

her brother’s friend group consisted of heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon, jaemin, and jisung. the enhypen members had been his long term friends ever since they were little — he met heeseung at the age of 10 and a few years along the way, the 02z liners popped up.

as they grew older, their group expanded when they came across jaemin and jisung in their high school years. ever since then, the group’s been growing and improving together.

with y/n’s brother meeting each boy at such a young age, the girl grew up with them as well. in such luck, her eyes trailed to jaemin. he was always so sweet to her that it caused her heart call to be for him and only him.

well, possibly not just for him.

when y/n got older, she realized that jaemin remained to just be a childhood crush. he was still the same guy she knew him as, but she just grew out of the fond memories she shared with him.

instead, she found herself to constantly look at sunghoon quite more often than she’d think.

she started to see him in a different way. the boy would always go back to the house with her brother after soccer practice, and just little gestures exchanged between the two sent heart throbs.

as time passed, she became more flustered around him — in which caused her to come to terms with the fact that she did like him. but they grew up together, they watched each other mature into the person they were.

that acknowledgement didn’t stop them though.

it had been a party thrown by her brother for who knows what; and one thing lead to another, and sunghoon had randomly admitted his feelings.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ — flashback

“you’re really pretty, you know that?” hoon uttered out in the silence, alcohol slightly reeking out of him.

y/n’s cheeks burned with red as she became flushed. “what?? that’s so random??” she tried to laugh off how awkward it was but only caused it to become more tense.

it was only the two of them in her room. the party was coming to an end with goodbyes, and sunghoon apparently needed his book back that she had borrowed, so they went to her bedroom (it was just an excuse).

when he received the object, he denied the request to go back out there as his social battery was running out (another excuse).

the boy just wanted some alone time, who can blame him?

“i’m serious,” hoon murmured. he turned to face her as they remained to be sitting on the edge of the bed, legs touching and feet near each other.

“uhm.. thank you?” she replied, emphasizing her question mark at the end.

he gave a light chuckle, showing his wide grin as he said, “why’d you say it like that?”

y/n quickly scrunched her brows together, giving a swift shrug to her shoulders before she replied, “i don’t know?? how else am i supposed to thank you?”

“with a kiss.” his lips crashed against hers in an instant. she was taken back for a second but melted in once she felt the tug of his lips.

he pulled away not too long after to let the longing for another sink in. a grin played on his lips, fully amused of her flustered state.

“you just kissed me..,” y/n raised her hands to her lips to graze where his lips had touched hers just seconds ago.

“i like you loser, you haven’t noticed that?” sunghoon said with a chuckle. his brows raised up as he continued to watch her try to find her words.

her mouth opened to speak but nothing could come out. he truly made her at a loss for words with the sudden surge of confidence he had to kiss and confess.

“guess you’ve just been too busy gawking at jaemin huh?” his lips curled into a smirk afterward, causing the girl to hit his shoulder.

“shut up!” they giggled together before the door had suddenly boomed open to the sight of her brother in a drunken state.

“hey.. it’s my friend, sunghoon and my sister, y/n! what are you guys doing?” he slurred out with fluttered eyes.

she rolled her eyes at him while trying to slowly back away from the boy she had just kissed. “oh god, you’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“no bro, my tolerance is good.” his feet soon stumbled down and so did his body. the stupid male fell down to the floor with how drunk he was.

“oh my god…,” she mumbled, giving a heavy sigh as she kneeled down beside him.

sunghoon softly laughed at watching how the siblings interacted.

“sorry..” she slightly whispered to him as she shook her brother who was on the floor.

“it’s okay y/n, we’ll talk soon.” he blinked his eyes in reassurance as he walked over to his friend. “rest well dude,” a soft pat was made to the boy on the floor as hoon smiled and walked out her bedroom door.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

they haven’t talked as much since then.

and as much as y/n’s brother denied it, he was protective of her and sunghoon knew that. he had a younger sister himself, so he understood.

he always remembered the words of her brother that echoed in his head — “y/n’s my little sister, she’s off limits.”

in retrospect, they specifically went out to jaemin as y/n’s name always rolled off of his tongue.

but sunghoon liked the girl. he always did. watching each other grow was something special as he admired from afar.

when she got to an older age, he found it difficult to get her out of his head. they were three years apart though and he acknowledged that, so he tried to move on.

but it didn’t help that they had just kissed months ago. she’d been stuck in his mind just as he was to her.

so when her brother had mentioned his friends coming over, she had to act as if she was unfazed.

a few knocks on the door were made and the whole friend group came flooding in. the boys soon comfortably situated themselves on the couch.

“where’s y/n?” jaemin asked, taking a sip of his opened soda afterward. sunghoon’s ears perked up as he waited for the answer.

“who cares about her?” her brother responded, truthfully remaining a little curious as to why he asked for her.

“oh come on, your sister’s cute.”

the girl’s brother morphed into an appalled look. “ha ha very funny. you’re disgusting, jaemin.”

he raised his arms in defense, hearing the others chime in as well. “that’s his little sister, bro.” jake said with a chuckle.

“says the one who’s dating her friend!”

the australian boy quickly shut his mouth after.

“he’s got you there,” heeseung amusingly added.

jaemin puffed out his lips as he let air pass. “you’re dating her other friend, hee” jisung squeaked out with a giggle.

heeseung became quiet, causing loud laughs to erupt from the group.

“you guys may be dating her friends, but that doesn’t mean you can date her.” y/n’s brother defensively said.

sunghoon trailed his eyes from the left and then to the right as he quietly whispered, “oh fuck.”

they weren’t exactly dating, but they still shared small pecks on the lips whenever they had the chance.

he couldn’t help it, it was like a craving.

“you’re quiet hoon,” jake mischievously spoke.

everybody landed their eyes on the boy as he took a gulp. “i just need to take a piss” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact as he got up and left.

“strange…,” y/n’s brother uttered.

“strange indeed,” heeseung whispered, sharing a suspicious glance to jake. they definitely heard something from their partners.

as sunghoon found his way to the bathroom, he also searched for y/n. luckily, her bedroom was near so he didn’t have to look far.

“y/n?” he quietly peeped, head peaking through the crack of the door.

a gasp was heard from the other end. “sunghoon?” she harshly whispered, widening the door crack to a smiley hoon.

“missed you,” he quietly mumbled in her ear while closing the door behind him. his arms wrapped around her, sighing in the warm embrace she exuded.

“missed you too.” she shyly said back with her head against his broad chest.

“y/n?? is that sunghoon?” her airpod muffled out.

the boy raised his brows before turning his head to her phone and finding her on call with her friends — min-su, dae, and ji-woo.

“you’re calling them?”

“yeah..”

in seconds, she could hear them go quiet in her ears, only for them to go loud again with booming questions; a few about their boyfriends who were at her house and a few about their undefined relationship.

she groaned out a sigh before double tapping her airpod, disconnecting from the call.

“sorry, i wanted to be kept busy while you guys were here.” y/n pushed her lips into a firm line to display how awkward she was feeling.

hoon gave a chuckle as a response — “i could’ve been helping you with that.” his brows raised in a suggestive way, earning a loud slap on his arm.

“ew sunghoon!” her face struck in horror as his words replayed in her ears.

truth be told, she got butterflies in her stomach with how close he was when he said it, but that didn’t stop her from hitting him. “the way you’re so confident right now is crazy, what if my brother finds you in my room like this?”

the inner corner of his lips slowly curled in mischief. “don’t worry gorgeous, he hasn’t found out the past few times i’ve visited you for a kiss.”

y/n’s eyes widened at the nickname. “gorgeous??? god hoon, you need to be put down.” she shook her head before rubbing her fingers on her temple. the boy was stressing her out but she was secretly enjoying the little things he was risking for her.

“i’m serious loser, if he finds out, we’re both done for. you know how he is!”

sunghoon grinned ear to ear, simply melting from her stressed state. “i know i know, you’re just so mesmerizing that i have to come back to you.”

he grabbed her chin from the bottom and smiled in amusement, enjoying how flustered he could make her with his flirtatious acts.

“i don’t know whether to feel disgusted or special right now,” she murmured, slightly killing the romantic mood.

he scoffed at her words. “you should feel special.” his head dipped lower to her lips, foreheads bunking while closing the gap as she whispered, “should i?”

his lips curled into a smile, uttering — “mhm” before letting their lips meet. her hands wrapped around his neck to pull him closer.

it was a soft kiss with how gentle he was going, but he still let a low groan leave his lips as his brows scrunched together.

hoon had finally got his craving, but the hungry desire was building up.

before he could go any further, y/n quickly pulled away to let him linger for more. he tried to connect their lips back together again but she stopped him with a head turn.

sunghoon was confused and his face showed it, causing the girl to softly laugh at his reaction.

“that was cute, but you have to go back before he notices you weren’t even in the bathroom in the first place.” she quietly said against his lips.

“so let him,” he groaned out before attempting to swoop in for another kiss.

she dodged it again as she shook her head. “no hoon, i’m serious. he might actually kick your ass.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes, tone becoming bitter as he replied, “so close to telling him for us.”

she gave a giggle at his words before nudging his arm. “just go back.”

“but-“

“hoon??” a voice from the hallway called out.

the two froze together before y/n slightly pushed him away from her.

the voice didn’t belong to her brother, but she knew it was one of the boys.

in seconds, jake peaked in through the door. he caught on a little too quick as he automatically smiled.

“what’s going on in here hm?”

sunghoon’s face peered into repulse at the sight of his friend. “shut up dude.”

jake softly chuckled before continuing on, “he sent me up here to check on you since you were taking too long in the bathroom. guess you just got lost in y/n’s room huh?”

y/n smiled and shook her head at the boy. “shut up jake…,”

he laughed in return as sunghoon’s cheeks were faintly colored red. “i’ve been knowing all along bro, ji-woo told me already. jisung owes me.. but you don’t have to look all embarrassed.” he nudged his arms in a playful way as the girl continued to laugh. “her brother might kill you though..”

“let’s just go. you’re embarrassing me,” sunghoon muttered, grabbing hold of the shorter boy to leave the room.

“hey don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone! and tell ji-woo to text me back y/n, yeah?” jake shouted. he earned a head smack from hoon in return so her brother couldn’t hear anything.

the two bickered like siblings as they walked through the hallway, leaving y/n alone in her bed. a smile curled onto her lips before she went back to her phone and rejoined the call with her friends, not forgetting to tell ji-woo to text jake back.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

days had passed since the boys came over. within the time gone, y/n’s brother had received news that he was getting promoted to a higher position in his job.

to celebrate, a party came in mind.

night arrived and the event soon began.

the party didn’t consist of a lot of people, but there were enough to cause social anxiety in the host’s sister.

she didn’t bother to converse with many people as she stayed near her friends — who, of course, were dating her brother’s friends so she stayed lingering around by herself.

the poor girl sighed to herself as she was alone.

no sight of hoon could be found but even if she did find him, she couldn’t risk it. to be quite frank, they hadn’t talked in a while. and along with that, they hadn’t kissed, so tension between them was growing.

it only worsened though when she found him to be talking to some girl.

just a random girl she didn’t know.

it didn’t matter that she didn’t know who that girl was, it mattered that he was talking to someone else who wasn’t her.

the 5’11 boy was seemingly enjoying the conversation he was having with her, laughing about who knows what. it boiled her blood to see that he was giving that same smile he gave her when they kissed the day that jake interrupted them.

she knew it was to throw off suspicions from her brother but did he really have to do it too well?

✩ ‘baby, am i your little secret?’ ✩

“want some company?” a familiar voice asked her, interrupting her train of thought.

y/n looked up and found jaemin offering her a can of soda. “sure,” she murmured with a smile.

he took the seat beside her as he sighed. “it’s overwhelming isn’t it?”

she peeked her eyes at him once she took a sip of her beverage. “yeah… i’d rather not interact with all of them.” her chuckle was soft as he reflected it in the same tone.

“still the same shy girl i know huh?”

she didn’t like him anymore, but that sure had her slightly flustered. her eyes widened a bit as she turned to him — “i’m not shy! i just don’t want to talk to people” — she defended.

jaemin’s laugh became louder as he teased, “yeah right. i know you y/n, you’re not one to talk first.”

the girl rolled her eyes in defeat. “okay okay fine.”

he grinned again while bunking shoulder to shoulder with her. “so who are you willing to talk to then?”

they met eyes right away and almost immediately, his gaze softened.

her inner child would be screaming with how close he was right now.

but she didn’t like him, not anymore. she liked sunghoon.

and no matter how close her old crush was near her, she couldn’t stop thinking about how hoon might’ve been doing something else with that girl.

y/n softly pulled away as her eyes twinkled in the light. “just anyone really,” she said with a half smile.

jaemin’s left corner of his lips curled as he smiled and nodded.

“i used to like you, you know?” he suddenly admitted.

her head quickly whipped to him as he chuckled at her reaction. “yeah i used to like you but i backed off because of your brother.”

she felt her heart pounding from his words but she didn’t know if it was from her younger self screaming in joy, or what.

“you did?” the girl asked, fingertips unusually becoming numb.

he nodded his head and gave a bread smile. “you were so cute when you were little.” he gazed his eyes down, going into remembrance of how they used to be in their younger years.

when y/n opened her mouth to speak, she felt a quick tug fling at her wrist.

in seconds, she was pulled away from the brown haired boy who was just as confused as her. her eyes glanced up and found a jealous sunghoon in front of her.

from what she didn’t see, hoon had been observing from afar. he didn’t mean to go stalker mode but he couldn’t help it with how jaemin had suddenly approached his girl.

his eyes darted at the two, resisting it all in himself to not pull her right away. he had enough of it though when he saw how close his friend had gotten to her. his jaw clenched when he imagined the possibility of jaemin connecting his lips with the girl he’s been wanting to kiss.

“hoon?”

“shut up.” he angrily spat out.

his grip accidentally became tighter as he continued to drag her up to her room, not caring if her brother had seen (he didn’t).

when they finally got to her room, he shut the door and pinned her against it.

she slightly winced in pain, almost causing him to let go of his rough act. it didn’t work though because the thought of jaemin and her closely together angered him even more.

he felt a bitter grudge fill every inch of his body as his jaw tensed, eyes staring deeply into hers.

“you gonna keep talking to jaemin, or should i tell your brother?” one hand was slammed against the door, near her head as the other still held onto her, caging her to himself.

“you know jaemin and i aren’t-“

“then why do you keep talking to him?” sunghoon cut her off, sounding sour in his tone as his eyes never dared to leave hers.

y/n slightly rolled her eyes. she liked seeing him jealous but he was honestly annoying her.

“why do you care?” she challenged. her lips softly grinned as he mirrored it, enjoying how confident she got.

he inched his face closer to hers, breath becoming hot and heavy against her — allowing the girl to reel in the scent of alcohol he radiated.

their lips were so close to touching, so close to finally meeting again after days of intense silence.

sunghoon lingered his eyes on her lips, tracing every part of it with his vision before moving onto her eyes.

the boy peered his gaze into her, slowly displaying that his orbs were pleading with lust and hunger.

he licked his lips, letting his tongue peek a little for her to see as he raised his brows and gave a smug smile at the same time.

“you belong to me,” he whispered.

butterflies and nervous sensations hit every part of y/n’s body with just those words. she felt weak in the knees in how he delivered his sentence.

the words were so possessive and yet charming.

hoon’s head dipped in to close the small gap between them, only for y/n to stop him with a hand on his chest.

the tension couldn’t be cut through with how much they craved for each other.

he slightly backed away, brows faintly raising as she shook her head. “you’re drunk, sunghoon.”

he gave a laughing scoff before letting his eyes trail back to her lips. “am i? because why is it that all i can imagine right now is how you kissed me the other day.”

he placed his thumb on her bottom lip, pulling it back as his mouth opened as well. a soft groan erupted out of his throat while holding himself back from smashing their lips against each others.

she was so close to giving in.

his desperation for a kiss had her almost folding. but she had to stop herself.

he was drunk, and she wasn’t about to take advantage of his vulnerable state.

it was something, but it was not the way.

when sunghoon tried to dive in for another kiss on the lips, y/n’s hands firmly placed itself on his muscled shoulders.

“you’re not in the best state to make decisions right now.” she stared deeply at him as he furrowed his brows.

“are you sure about that?” hoon’s head drooped to her shoulders, allowing her to instantly feel his hot breath.

he whimpered out a sigh at the feel of his lips on her clothed skin. “you drive me crazy,” he whispered, placing wet kisses at her shoulder and leading up to her collarbone.

as he attempted to do so, his eyes closed a little longer than he wished. and instantly, he was knocked out.

she huffed out a sigh, half in laughter and half in annoyance that his body weight was suddenly depending on her. “geez,” she mumbled. “kissing me and now you’re asleep.”

her hands pushed him off of her so he could fall back on the bed.

the girl smiled as her gaze softened with each second she admired him. “sleep well idiot,” she whispered before turning out the lights.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

when morning came, sunghoon’s eyes forced itself awake from the bright light.

a pounding was taken to the head as he groaned out in pain. he looked around, eyes scanning everywhere as little placements of the room began to be recognized.

he peaked his head up to the left, soon finding a barrier of pillows in the middle of the bed, separating him and the girl he liked. y/n remained softly asleep on her side as she was all the way at the edge of the bed.

once he blinked enough to gain conscious of how far she was, he softly smiled.

“cute,” he quietly mumbled to himself.

as he was about to reach for a blanket to cover her up, the door was suddenly opened to y/n’s brother. his mouth gaped open in shock as his eyes widened.

“what the hell are you doing in my sister’s room???” he loudly questioned, awakening y/n.

she blinked in confusion before gaining hold that she slept in the same bed as sunghoon, and her brother had just caught her.

“calm down,” she grumbled while tiredly rubbing her eyes.

her brother clicked his tongue before yelling — “get the hell out of her bed sunghoon! what the hell is wrong with you?”

with said, hoon jumped out of the bed, only for the older boy to skip close to him. “that’s my sister!!”

“okay look-“

“no! get out! you are not getting anywhere closer to her”

“you can’t do that!” y/n defensively screamed.

“shut the hell up! you’re a kid, you can’t- he can’t- just get out of here sunghoon!”

the younger male quickly rushed out, not needing to be told twice to do such a thing as he panicked.

a few hours passed and her brother continued to rage even though hoon had left.

“are you kidding me, y/n??”

she rolled her eyes and sighed. “it’s not that big of a deal as you’re making it.”

“you’re eighteen and he’s twenty-one dumbass! he’s older than you by three years, what makes you think this is okay??”

“we like each other and it’s genuine.”

“you’re a kid, y/n. he’s gonna be in his mid twenties soon and you just turned eighteen. you don’t even know what’s best from left to right. how are you gonna handle it if he breaks up with you??

“well i guess we’ll just have to wait and see huh!” she yelled, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temple in irritation. “three years isn’t as bad as you’re making it.”

“it is when you’re just fucking eighteen, stupid.”

“calm the fuck down,” she took a sigh in as she mentally told herself to calm down. “okay look, i know you’re pissed because he’s your friend and he’s three years older than me, but i’m telling you, him and i match really well.”

her brother gave a soft scoff, shaking his head in disappointment as he said, “you’re just gonna get hurt, dumbass.”

she knew he was being protective, but he couldn’t control her love life.

“sunghoon and i are-“

“are what? together now?” he ridiculed.

y/n rolled her eyes. “would it really be that bad for us to be together?”

before she could say anything else, he walked away. her brother didn’t want to hear what she had to say anymore. the argument would only be going back and forth so he left it as it is.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

a few days had passed since the incident, and y/n’s brother hasn’t talked to her or sunghoon.

in fact, y/n and hoon haven’t talked to each other either. they felt it best to keep a distance for the time being.

when it was late in the night, the girl was calling the same four friends as usual. they yapped on and on about various topics.

as her friend, dae continued to talk about his date with jungwon, a light tapping was made on the window.

being the paranoid girl she was, her heart stopped before she turned to her phone — “did you guys hear that?? that wasn’t just me right..,”

“girl.. i heard it too,” said ji-woo with a clear eyebrow raise.

“uhm me too but i didn’t want to say it,” dae quirked out.

“you’re being haunted y/n,” min-su commented with a smile.

“shut up!” the girl on the other end yelled, hands shakily grabbing hold of the phone to see if she missed any notifications that could be related to the tapping window.

indeed, she did.

hoonie :):

It’s me

Open please..

y/n huffed out a sigh as she went to the window. “hold on guys, i’ll be back.” she told her friends, ending the call while opening the window to sunghoon.

he came tumbling in, chest heaving up and down. “finally,” he breathed.

“what are you doing here, sunghoon?” her arms folded together in curiosity.

the boy breathed heavily as he caught his breath.

“i just..,” he stopped himself to get closer to her, hands cupping her cheeks as he lovingly stared. “i just wanted to see you.”

“what if-“

“it’s okay, i’ll only be here for a second. i just really missed you.”

y/n cracked a smile as his cheesy words caused her heart to thump in joy.

“i missed you too…,” she quietly said before leaning in for a small peck on the lips.

“you just stole my next act,” hoon replied with a pout.

she laughed at his reaction, rolling her eyes as her hands trailed up to his own. “just do it again.”

and he did.

the male pushed himself toward her lips after being granted with permission.

his hands became tighter around her cheeks as he forced more of his lips on hers, pushing her back so she could hit the wall. she softly groaned from the act while he felt relieved to feel her lips on his again.

with them keeping a distance, the tension easily grew and the kiss had just satisfied that, but he craved for more.

he was hungry, and thrilled, even, to finally have their lips connect. it was evident with how much his grip tightened around her waist.

the girl finally pulled away, hands holding him back as she panted deeply for fresh air. “gosh..,” she breathed, fisting her hands so she could harshly bump it against his strong chest.

sunghoon gave a faint laugh in return. his head bunked against hers as he placed a sweet kiss on the top of her nose.

“i’ve been waiting.”

y/n rolled her eyes, softly hitting his arm as she said, “he’s really gonna find out!”

“let him, he already knows.”

he connected his lips with hers again, almost sloppy with the way they touched, but it was nothing but sweet.

he intended to keep the mood that way and so did she.

“hoon..,” she mumbled against his lips. “he could-“

“shut up.” sunghoon smashed his lips against hers, muffling out the leftover words in her mouth as she melted into it.

she felt her heart rate exceed at an unhealthy pace when his finger nails dug into the flesh of her waist.

he pulled away again, panting hard while still leaving littered kisses on her lips.

“stop kissing me, hoon! im scared,” she pushed him away with a hit on his shoulder.

sunghoon only chuckled as a reaction, finding it amusing with how afraid she was. his fangs shined in her eyes as he continued to laugh.

“you’re cute when you worry,” he teased.

his hand reached to her hair, tucking a few strands behind as he looked at her with yearning eyes.

“gorgeous girl,” he whispered before placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “your brother may scare me too, but he can’t completely break us apart.”

y/n’s lips curled into a smile as she quietly agreed. “plus, you’re already mine.” he added on, intertwining his hands with hers and raising it as proof.

she rolled her eyes and nodded her head — “fine fine, but if he catches us, i’m blaming you.”

he cracked out a laugh — “okay gorgeous.” he dragged her to her bed before wrapping his arms around her. his head rested on top of hers as their legs dangled together.

as they remained on the bed, trying to be as secretive as possible, y/n checked her phone real quick to text her group chat that she wasn’t gonna join back.

but a few quick texts from her brother had stopped her.

‘I know he’s there stupid’

‘He better treat you right’

she grinned ear to ear after feeling a heavy weight lift off of her shoulders.

a quick like and response to the message was made before shutting her phone off and turning to sunghoon.

“he knows,” she whispered.

his eyes blew up in shock. “he does??”

“mhm, and he’s okay with it so you better be glad.” she said, letting her hands go to his hair to play with it.

y/n picked at the soft strands that peaked out, smiling as she felt her heart warming up with him.

hoon watched her play with his hair, eyes longing with love as her embrace was becoming home to him.

the two stayed in their position a little longer before ultimately deciding to watch a movie together.

the night ended in a softhearted silence as they slept in each other’s arms. she was sound asleep with his hoodie on while he clung onto her.

everything felt right with the world now that they were together without the burden of her brother.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of court, mentions of shootings

Chris’s POV

It was early Saturday morning when Nate showed up at my place, looking like he hadn’t slept a minute. He’d just been let go from the police station after being kept overnight. I could tell from the way his eyes darted around that he was still a little on edge. It wasn’t the first time Nate had found himself in trouble, but this was different. Getting arrested for carrying too much weed while being tied up with our crew was a whole new level of risky.

Nate and I were both part of the Crimson Cartel, a gang deeply embedded in Boston’s streets. His family had been involved for as long as I could remember, and his cousin Danny was one of the big players. I got pulled into it all because of Nate - our friendship was solid, and when he joined, it wasn’t long before I did too. 

“Got a joint, bro?”  Nate asked, his eyes already scanning the kitchen for one.

I laughed. “Seriously? You just got back from being arrested for possession, and you want to smoke up?”

“Hell yeah. What else am I gonna do?” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

I liked the occasional joint. It helped take the edge off, helped me relax when things got too hectic. But that was it - just weed, nothing harder. I knew where to draw the line. Sure, I sold drugs, but I didn’t get involved with any of the other shit. That was strictly for the older guys in the Crimson Cartel. Those were the ones who handled the hits, the intimidation, the gruesome work. They had been in the game for years, hardened by it. Nate and I, we were different.

We were the youngest in the gang - Me being 21, and Nate just 20, everyone else was 30+. We’d been involved since we were 16 & 17. Our job was simple: handle the drug runs, get the product from one place to another. No blood on our hands, no breaking bones or taking lives. It was a clean line, or at least that’s what I told myself. I wasn’t in this for the violence. Shit, I wasn’t even in this by choice, one bad decision snowballed, and now this was my life. My family freaked the fuck out when they found out. Kicked me out, didn’t want anything to do with me. That’s how I ended up living with my uncle Jerry, just trying to get by. I guess it helped having an uncle who liked to smoke too.

Just sell it – that’s what I kept reminding myself. I was good at it. I didn’t have to hurt anyone. I didn’t have to be like the older guys who let the gang swallow them whole. I wasn’t a thug, and I wasn’t going to become one. That’s how I stayed sane in all this.

The older guys in the cartel, though – they didn’t think like that. For them, it wasn’t just about the money. It was about power, about making a name for themselves on the streets of Boston. Nate and I didn’t fit into that. We were runners, sure, but we kept ourselves out of the violent shit. Nate had a reckless streak growing up, especially when he was with his cousin Danny, but even he didn’t want to cross that line.

Still, the older we got, the harder it became to stay in our lane. The more we were around, the more they expected from us. Every time I handed off a package, there was always this nagging feeling that eventually, they’d want more. Nate and I had managed to avoid that side of the cartel for now, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. There’s only so long you can run drugs before they start pulling you deeper in.

The truth was, this life had a way of blurring those lines. Sure, I wasn’t involved in any hits, but I was part of the same machine that funded them. Every deal I made, every bag I handed off, it all contributed to something bigger, something more dangerous. As much as I tried to keep myself at arm’s length from the bloodshed, I was still part of the problem. And deep down, I knew it. But I had to keep telling myself that it was different. That I was different. As long as I stayed on the edges of it, as long as I kept my head down and just did the runs, I wouldn’t have to cross that line. I wouldn’t have to become like Vince or Danny or any of the others who’d let the cartel define them.

We headed out the side gate of my bungalow and settled into the backyard. It was chilly, but the kind of brisk Boston morning you get used to. I pulled out a joint, lit it up, and handed it over as Nate slouched back into one of the old chairs. As he took a deep drag, I asked, “So, what the hell happened?”

He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling up into the air. “Man, it was a mess. I was out helping Danny and Sully with a run. You know, just moving some weight, nothing crazy. But then Danny got a call, said one of the big guys from H Block was back in town, and he couldn’t let that slide.”

I nodded, knowing all too well how territorial things had gotten lately between us and H Block.

“So, next thing I know, we’re driving down Charles Street, street was silent as fuck not a sinner on the place. I’d just smoked a joint and was high as hell when Danny starts shooting. I panicked when the shots went off and I hopped out the car. The car took off, and I was stuck there like a damn fool.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head. “You didn’t try to get back in?”

“Nah, man. They were gone, and I freaked out. I didn’t want to stick around a crime scene, so I ran. Ended up at the Public Garden trying to blend in, but it’s October so I’m sat there freezing my ass off. Eventually, I had to leave, but cops were swarming everywhere and I’m still high as fuck so of course, I run into them.”

I laughed a little at the irony, but it quickly faded when he said, “They nailed me for carrying more than the legal amount of weed and suspicion of selling. And there’s already whispers about me being involved in the shooting. If that gets out, I’m screwed.”

“Jesus, Nate. So, what happens now?” I asked, taking the joint back from him.

“I’ve got until Monday to figure things out. That’s when my court appearance is.” Nate said, leaning back in his chair as though he wasn’t too worried.

I took a deep breath. “So, less than 48 hours?”

He nodded, eyes half lidded as the weed hit him. “Yeah, but my record’s clean. It’s the first time I’ve ever been caught with anything, so I should get off light. Worst case? A fine and some community service. I doubt they’ll throw me in jail.”

I passed the joint back to him. “And they don’t have anything solid linking you to the hit?”

“Not yet, I mean from what I remember no one else was around.” he said, exhaling smoke. “But you know how it is. If they start digging, anything could come up.”

I sat there, processing everything. Nate was right, he might be fine, but there was always the chance the cops would sniff out something worse. “You want me to do anything?”

“Yeah, actually” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m supposed to do a run in Roxbury tomorrow, but with the heat on me, I need to lay low. Can you cover it?”

I thought about it for a second. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

Nate nodded, looking relieved. He gave me the address, and I pulled out my phone to type it into my notes app. As I did, I noticed a drop down notification that made me freeze.

“@y/ny/l/n2 liked your photo.”

I blinked, staring at the screen. Y/n Y/l/n? It had been years since I’d heard that name. Curious, I clicked the notification, but by the time the app loaded, it was gone. There was no mention of her like, no new activity on the post. Weird.

Nate noticed I was distracted. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just.. an old name popped up” I said, pocketing my phone.

“Old girl?” he teased, a grin forming on his face.

“Something like that” I muttered, still thinking about Y/n. I hadn’t seen or spoke to her in years, but I couldn’t deny that her name stirred something in me. We had a brief thing back in 2018, nothing too serious, but I always had a soft spot for her.

Nate eventually decided to head home, needing some rest after his long night in the station. I waved him off, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Y/n.

What was she up to these days? Was she still in Boston? Why did she like my post after all this time? What made her look at my Instagram?

That night, I went over everything for the run tomorrow, making sure I had everything in place. But no matter how much I tried to focus, I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/n.

She was one of those girls who left a mark on you, no matter how brief things had been. And even though it had been years, I couldn’t help but wonder what seeing her again might be like.

Monday came faster than I expected, and I found myself standing outside the Boston Municipal Court with Nate. He looked calm, or at least as calm as he could be given the situation. But I knew better. Nate always tried to play it cool, even when he was freaking out on the inside.

We hadn’t talked much since Saturday, and I could tell the nerves were starting to hit him now. His foot tapped restlessly on the courthouse steps as we waited for his case to be called. The morning air was crisp, the fall chill creeping in, and it wasn’t helping either of us settle.

“You’ll be fine” I muttered, trying to reassure him.

He gave me a tight smile. “Yeah, let’s hope so. Just gotta get through this.”

When they finally called Nate’s name, we both stood, making our way inside. The courtroom was filled with the usual mix of people – lawyers, family members, defendants. Everyone there for one reason or another, all waiting for their fate to be decided. As much as Nate tried to shrug it off, this was serious. The rumors about the hit on Charles Street were swirling, and we both knew if they got any real evidence, he was screwed.

Nate’s lawyer made a decent argument – first time offense, clean record, no solid evidence tying him to anything worse than possession. They dragged it out longer than I thought they would, but in the end, the judge gave his ruling.

“A charitable donation of $2,000 and 50 hours of community service” the judge announced, his voice echoing through the courtroom.

“Additionally, Mr. Doe, you are expected to refrain from any drug related activities for the next 12 months. Any violation of this order will result in harsher consequences.”

The words were like a weight being lifted off Nate’s shoulders. He was let off easy. I knew he’d be able to pay the fine without blinking, and the community service? It was nothing. But the whole “refrain from drug related activities” part? That was funny. We both knew that wasn’t happening. Nate just had to make sure he didn’t get caught.

As soon as the court was adjourned, I felt the tension drain out of me. Nate’s future was safe, for now. I clapped him on the back as we left the courtroom. “See? Not so bad.”

Nate grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, man, I guess I got lucky.”

But even though things had turned out okay, I needed to get out of there. The courtroom felt too small, too confined. I needed air, space to think, and to breathe. I left as fast as I could, practically jogging out of the courthouse doors and into the cool October breeze. It hit me like a wave, and I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my head.

That’s when I saw her.

The most strikingly beautiful girl I’d seen in years. A face that was hard to forget. Something in my chest tightened as I watched her walk across the courtyard, almost in slow motion. She was looking down at her phone, completely unaware of my presence.

And then it hit me. I knew that girl.

Wait-Y/n?

The same Y/n I hadn’t seen since 2018. The same Y/n who had been on my mind all weekend after that weird Instagram notification.

My feet were frozen in place, and for a second, I felt like time had stopped. There she was, standing just a few feet away, as if fate had decided to throw us back together after all these years.

Y/n.

What the hell were the odds?

I didn’t know if I should walk up to her or just keep my distance, but before I could make a decision, she looked up from her phone and our eyes locked. My heart skipped a beat.

There was no avoiding it now.

Y/n’s Pov

"Y/n?" His voice was deeper than I remembered, smooth yet surprised.

I blinked, still in awe of how good looking he still was. He had that same disheveled charm, the messy brown hair, sharp jawline, and those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through me. Only now, he was taller, broader. He had grown into himself, and it was impossible to ignore.

"Chris" I breathed, trying to act casual but failing miserably. "Wow, it’s been a while."

"It really has" he said with that signature smirk of his. "It’s nice to see you. You look great."

I could feel my cheeks heating up. "Thanks. You too."

We stood there for a moment, just taking each other in. It was surreal, seeing him after all these years. I didn’t even know what to say or where to start.

"So.. what are you doing here?" I asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nate got into a bit of trouble, as you probably saw in there. I’m just here to support him."

"Right" I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around everything. Chris and Nate, in court. A few years ago, I never would’ve pictured it, well maybe Nate but not so much Chris.

"How’s life treating you?" he said, eyes scanning me in that way that made my heart flutter. 

"It’s good, actually. Just finishing up a big project for college. Still getting used to all the work, but I like it."

He nodded, his gaze softening. "I’m glad to hear it. You always had your head on straight."

Before I could respond, Nate appeared, walking up to us with his usual nonchalance. He looked at Chris first, then at me, a flicker of recognition passing across his face.

"I’ll wait for you in the car, man" Nate said, slapping Chris on the back before giving me a nod. "Nice seeing you."

I returned the gesture, watching as Nate sauntered off. It was so strange, seeing both of them like this. Nate barely glanced back, disappearing down the steps toward the parking lot. My eyes flicked back to Chris, who was still watching me with that familiar intensity.

"We should hang out sometime" he said, almost casually, but there was something more to it.

My stomach did a flip. "Yeah, that would be nice."

Chris smiled, a genuine one that sent my pulse racing again. "You’re still living in Beacon Hill, right?"

I shook my head. "No, we moved once I started college. My parents wanted a bigger house in a quieter area, so we’re out in Brookline now."

He nodded, while giving me a soft smirk. "That’s cool. I’ve still got you on Instagram. I’ll shoot you a message, and we can figure something out."

The casual mention of Instagram made my face burn. He definitely saw the notification. I could feel the heat rising up my neck. But if he knew, he didn’t say anything. He just gave me that same charming smile, one that felt all too familiar.

"Yeah, sounds good" I mumbled, trying to keep my cool.

With one last glance, he gave me a quick nod before turning to leave. I watched as he walked away, feeling the blood rush to my face. The way he moved, the effortless confidence - it all hit me at once.

Chris was back in my life, just like that. And somehow, it felt like things were about to get a lot more complicated.

a/n: first chris povvvv

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @slutniolo @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69

[olderthannetfic]

I don't know if this is me being sensitive, but I kind of hate it when people assume I must be a certain age to write protagonists who are that age well. My protagonist of my most popular current fic is 52. I'm 19. People assume I must be in my 30's at a minimum, and that's... weird, to me?

A 52 year old has a lot in common with a 19 year old. A lot of regrets about things you did wrong, worries about the younger people in your family, you worry about being like the toxic older relatives you swore you wouldn't become, you're not sure what the future holds but you're not 90 or something so you can't stop caring because it does in fact directly impact you, you've got a lot of responsibilities but everyone assumes you're fine either because "oh young people have it easy" or "you're old enough to have your finances in order/your life figured out" is in effect, etc. It's not like a 52 year old is a different species than I am. He has anxieties, problems, a job with annoying coworkers, he's someone's son, he's someone's best friend, he is awkwardly trying to navigate a work-life balance, he's... at the risk of sounding insulting, he's just a guy. I'm just a guy. We are all just guys and gals and whatever the NB equivalent term is.

We're people. We're both people and we live in the same country, and his world has fantasy elements but it's not radically different from ours in any way that would impede my ability to write him. People are stunned I'm 19. I am not good enough to justify this with, "they're stunned by my creative genius!", this is very much them oohing and aaahing over someone writing a normal person with moderate competency. I'm not writing shit you have to be older to have even done IRL. Yeah, adjusting to knowing magic and vampires and werewolves are real is weird. Trying to make sure your younger relatives know they can talk to you without hovering or being annoying is a super standard, normal-ass experience. Being overwhelmed by information and having long to-read and to-watch lists is a really common thing. There's more media available than ever but there remains 24 hours in a day, ultimately.

The thing I got the most praise for that I find to be the most "given an award for knowing the sky is blue" in vibe is him longing for the simplicity of his childhood but acknowledging that simplicity was just how he perceived it and times were complicated back then. I had that revelation about my childhood when I was still in it, when I was ten and I eavesdropped on my mom talking to one of her friends about bills, politics and rising extremism in the US. People think I must be an adult lying about my age in order to get praise for my good writing and my "good writing" is literally just shit I knew when I was 10 years old.

I am not good enough to be worthy of some 'wise beyond your years' type sentiment. I just asked myself, "What would Character Name be thinking/feeling in this situation?" and it's like I'm getting applause for having the ability to walk and chew gum at the same time. I don't need to be in my 30's to grasp a complicated concept like "he's worried about his loved ones".

Look I know a lot of my generation acts dumb online but the most egregious stick out specifically because they're egregious. That's not the norm. We're not incapable of seeing older people as human beings.

--

I fucked a dude in high school because he could write convincingly from a middle-aged POV and was obsessed with the old guy from Don Juan DeMarco. It was refreshing. Most people our age, even the other writer nerds, could not do that.

No, anon, most 19-year-olds aren't especially good at this specific way of putting themselves in an older person's shoes and at getting that across in writing. There are various types of writing skill. Maybe your other ones aren't all that, or maybe you're just too hard on yourself, but it sounds like you're unusually good at a particular niche skill.

[marlshroom]

while combing through mob psycho to find clips for my amv i am making, i noticed a small difference in the way ritsu and mob remember what happened after the highschool bullies attacked them.

when we see mobs flashback, the story is a bit scattered, flashing through mostly static moments loosely pieced together from his hazy memory. the high schooler's faces are hard to make out. the color palette is very washed out, with the core colors being white and desaturated blues, with the red being the most vibrant color, because the key part of his memory is the blood.

[ID: Mob Psycho 100 screencaps showing flashbacks to Mob and Ritsu's childhood accident. The first four are Mob's POV, and they're colored in a glowy blue and white, with Ritsu's blood the darkest and only other spot of color in the scene. We see Mob trying to stop Ritsu from yelling at older kids, Ritsu lying on the ground with a pool of blood seeping from under his head, and Mob looking lost with blood on his cheek. End ID]

in contrast, ritsu has a very clear telling of what happened. the moments are not as static, he remembers what color shirts they were wearing that day, he knows what caused mob to black out, for ???% to wake. the color palette is much more saturated.

[ID: The next four are Ritsu's POV, and they're slightly hazy but in full color. We see Ritsu and Mob struggling while the older kids grapple them, followed by Mob hitting his head against a wall. Ritsu shouts with distress, and black energy and red light suddenly flares up from behind where the bully shoved Mob into the wall. End ID]

i think the contrast is very interesting, especially since both retelling of events happen in the same episode (season 1 episode 5 i believe, where teru is trying to fight mob). one of them has an extremely poor memory, mob can really only infer what happened, he even asks ritsu what he did when he was knocked unconscious. and while ritsu claims that he doesn't remember much of it, his mind is basically plagued from this memory, as much as he would probably like to forget. he thinks about this any time mob is faced with stress. i don't think this was a very groundbreaking discovery, i just love moments like this where i can see how hard people worked on this show and the amount of detail they put in,... they could have very easily just repeated the same flashbacks from mob and add some more contextual shots from ritsus perspective but they chose to make that distinction.... so awesome.

[verisette]

⌗02 — 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 KATSUKI BAKUGO, GATE 3-A.

prologue : who am i? well, even i’m not so sure.

previous <- : series masterlist : -> next

CONTENT WARNINGS : slight smau. second person reader POV; third person for Bakugo POV. emotionally distant parental relationships. cultural references to Bali (may contain inaccuracies, please feel free to correct!). kamijirou ship mention (sorry in advance). past Bakugo relationship mention (brief).

BLONDIE’S NOTES : Ignore the time on the messages, I also messed up a tad on them. It’s not that noticeable, nor does it matter, but I’ll say so anyway. Anyhow, this is relatively a long “chapter,” I normally don’t write this much, how to some of ya’ll do it?

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @nina-from-317 @harryzcherry @kye1aaazene @kalulakunundrum @cielito--lindo @happinessisabutterflie @sakuraszn @dahhliaa @bakugoubaby @jazoewazoe @loliesaregreat @blissin6s @vicdik @yk-raji @meowsannie @toriiee

The scenery outside blurs in sun-warmed streaks of gold and green, late-summer fields flashing by as the route bus hums steadily down the road.

You shift in your seat, the fabric beneath you rough and faded, patterned moquette scratched from years of passengers doing the same.

A light weight presses on your shoulder. The person next to you, a stranger, has dozed off and leaned into you sometime during the ride. You don’t have the heart to nudge them away.

Your gaze drifts back to the window. Mountains in the distance. A glimpse of Fuji’s crown on the horizon. Another new town. Another fresh start. Musutafu

A city nestled in Shizuoka Prefecture, known for its fragrant green tea fields, its botany research centers, and that towering guardian on the skyline, Mt. Fuji. A postcard kind of place. Beautiful, stable. Peaceful.

To anyone else, this would be exciting. A new place. A new culture. The adventure of a lifetime.

If you hadn’t moved around the world your entire life, that is.

But you have. So to you, this isn’t thrilling. It’s exhausting.

You lost count of how many homes you’ve had after the twelfth move. The suitcase at your feet is more of a home than any place you’ve lived.

Brazil. Greece. Thailand. Mexico. Iceland. Italy. Hawaii. Canada. India. Africa. China and most recently, Indonesia. You’ve seen temples rise into the clouds, deserts sprawl into the horizon, and jungles vibrate with the buzz of cicadas.

And yet, you’ve never really belonged anywhere. Never planted roots. Never stayed long enough to watch the seasons change twice in the same place.

Your parents are to thank for that, not that you hold it against them.

They work in international disaster relief. A government-funded emergency response team that specializes in areas devastated by villain attacks or natural disasters.

They’re the first to arrive after the storm, earthquake, or explosion… and the first to be relocated once the next one hits. Whether it’s France or Peru, they go where they’re needed most.

You’ve always admired that about them. Truly. Heroes in their own right. But admiration doesn’t make it easier to say goodbye every other month.

Or to walk into yet another unfamiliar school with yet another new name tag.

Navigating a relationship with your parents? Complicated. They're kind, brave, and endlessly driven but distant. Always distant. Not on purpose. Just... not always present.

Still, you're grateful. You know more than most kids your age, about the world, about people.

You've eaten street food in Bangkok at midnight and prayed in silence at shrines older than history.

You know how to say “hello” in 25 different languages. You can name all the major religions and point out tectonic fault lines on a map.

But knowledge doesn't soothe the ache of isolation.

You remember your first move like it was a scar.

You were in third grade. Eight, maybe nine. Masegaki Elementary. You were one of the popular kids. Bright. Liked by teachers. The fastest runner during recess races, except against him.

What was his name...?

Katsumi? No, Katsuki.

Yeah. Katsuki. That sounds right.

The two of you were inseparable back then. You remember afternoons spent at his house, flopped on beanbags, watching reruns of All Might’s old rescues that aired on local TV at 3:30 p.m. sharp. He was loud, rough around the edges, but there was something about him you liked. Maybe it was his fire. His confidence.

There was another boy, too. Quiet. Gentle. Always had a book in his hand and a nervous smile on his face.

Izu... something? Izuo? Izuku?

It’s fuzzy now, but you remember the way he listened when you talked. The softness in his voice.

You never got to say goodbye.

One afternoon you came home, and your life was in boxes. Your bedroom stripped to the skeleton of what it once was. The “For Sale” sign on the lawn felt like betrayal.

“We’re moving to Las Vegas,” your mother had said brightly, trying to spin it like a game. “It’ll be fun!”

“And we’ll be back before you know it,” she promised, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

But “soon” never came.

You tried to stay in touch. At first, it worked, texting, late-night calls despite the time zones. But replies grew slower. Messages stopped being returned. People moved on. And then, one day, your mom's phone was destroyed in a field operation. New number. New everything.

Just like that, the thread snapped.

After that, it was always the same. A new school, a new uniform, new faces. You made friends, because you had to. Became popular, because you knew how to adapt.

Liked by teachers, because you were polite and bright. The fastest on the playground, because you’d had a lot of practice running.

But the moves kept coming. So you stopped trying so hard.

Then came the fear. The anxiety. The tightness in your chest whenever you had to speak in front of people. The fear of walking into a classroom where everyone already had a history without you.

You became the “new girl.” Always the “new girl.”

Days, weeks, sometimes months behind everyone else.

And the worst part? Connection.

You're not sure you've had a real one since third grade. There’s never been time. You’ve become a cameo in everyone’s story, a blur in the background of yearbook photos.

Romance? Don’t even go there.

Seventeen years old and you’ve never even held hands with someone in that way. No stolen glances. No first kiss. Not even a crush that lasted more than a week. You haven’t “snapped” anyone. You don’t have anyone to snap.

Maybe you’re too awkward. Too distant. Or maybe people just don’t care enough to try when they know you’ll be gone by the semester’s end.

So what’s the point?

…Still.

This time, things are going to be different.

Not because of romance. You don’t have time for that.

This time, you’re here for one reason, and one reason only:

To get your hero provisional license, and finally graduate high school.

Simple, really. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad.

After all, you actually had a “friend” attending U.A. with you, or the closest thing to one you’ve had in years. You met her three weeks ago during a festival in Bali.

There were fireworks in the sky, lanterns strung across the trees, and laughter spilling over every street.

You were trying to find a food vendor, your stomach practically begging for something greasy to take back to your small apartment you and your parents share when someone collided with you full-force.

A pink-skinned girl with cotton candy curls and the wildest energy you'd ever seen went flying, her container of nasi campur launching like a confetti bomb across the pavement.

You remember gasping, instinctively apologizing even though you weren't completely at fault.

She looked heartbroken staring down at the food like she'd just lost her best friend. Without thinking, you bought her a new one. And that was all it took.

The two of you ended up talking for hours, sitting cross-legged on a cracked curb, food in your laps, music playing faintly in the distance.

You talked about where you'd been, where she wanted to go, the best hot springs in Indonesia, her dreams of being a hero, and the way you still weren’t sure what “home” was supposed to feel like.

Then it came up, you were leaving soon.

“Oh my god,” she’d squealed when you said Japan. “Wait, wait, wait, but where in Japan?!”

“Uh... Musutafu?”

You swore she’d vibrated on a different frequency after that.

And when you mentioned you'd be attending U.A., you thought she might’ve actually combusted into glitter.

Back in the present, the soft buzz in your jeans pocket pulls you from the memory.

You shift slightly, trying not to wake the person still snoring lightly on your shoulder.

You fish your phone out, the screen lighting up with one unread message.

one new message from minaaa <3! 📧

A party.

On orientation night, no less.

You blink at the text, already imagining the dim lights, loud music, too many strangers packed into one dorm like sardines in a can. Not your scene. At all.

Too loud. Too hot. Too everything.

Your fingers hover over your phone, ready to type out a polite decline... but then you pause.

Mina’s been nothing but kind to you. She's been your guide to U.A. before you even arrived, sending you voice memos and outfit recs, telling you which teachers were strict and which ones secretly loved sweets.

She didn’t have to do any of that. But she did.

And if you said no now, you might regret it.

So you answer.

one new message from bali bestie ✨️✨️! 📧

“Score! She said she’d come!” Mina all but screeches, practically bouncing on her toes as she flails her phone in the air like she’s won the lottery.

Sero, walking past with a box of dorm supplies, raises a brow. “Wow, you’re really hyped about this girl coming, huh?”

“Well, duh,” Mina grins, placing the phone gently on the counter like it’s sacred. “Y/N is soooo cool! You guys are gonna love her. She's a bit awkward and kinda standoffish, but once you get to know her? Total gem.”

Kaminari calls out from the kitchen, mouth full of chips, “Don’t we already have enough standoffish people? Todoroki, Bakugo, Kyo…”

“Shut up, Kaminari!” Jirou snaps, barely glancing up from her spot curled on the common room couch. She flips him off without missing a beat.

Kaminari gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “You wound me, baby.” He stumbles out of the kitchen like a soap opera star and collapses into her lap.

“Get a room!” Sero shouts, tossing a throw pillow at Kaminari’s head.

“Stay jealous, you’re still single,” Kaminari fires back, making a raspberry sound as he dodges the pillow with a smug grin.

“Who’s jealous of who now?” Kirishima asks as he and Bakugo step into the dorm with another load of boxes.

“Oh, forget that,” Mina says, hands on her hips. “The only thing that matters is my twin’s arriving soon!”

“I thought I was your twin?” Jirou questions, raising a pierced brow.

“You are, Kyo baby,” Mina sings. “Y/N’s just my shy twin.”

Bakugo grunts, dropping a box full of potted succulents on the floor. “You’re still goin’ on about that girl?”

“Well, yeah,” Mina retorts, arms crossed. “She’s amazing!”

“Please. If she’s anything like you, I don’t need another loud extra in my life,” Bakugo mutters, scowling.

“She’s not like me! I mean, okay, kinda, but like, in a chill way. You’d like her, actually. She’s pretty attractive, y’know…”

“Mina...” Kirishima warns, shooting her a look that says stop before you die.

“Don’t even, Pinkie,” Bakugo growls.

Mina huffs, puffing her cheeks out. “Come on, Katsuki, it’s been months since Asam—”

Kirishima quickly claps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Nope. Noooope.”

Bakugo stiffens at the name. His eyes darken for a second, jaw clenched like a trap ready to snap. He hasn’t so much, as said her name since—

Whatever. It doesn’t matter now.

“What’d you say that girl’s name was again?” he asks, voice surprisingly calm.

Mina blinks. “Who?”

“That girl you keep screeching about.”

“Y/N. Why?” Mina asks, her smile twitching into curiosity. “Do you know her?”

“Tch. Hell no,” he says with a sharp scoff. “Name just sounded familiar.”

“Uh-huh.” Mina smirks. “Or maybe you’re intere—”

“Shut up,” Bakugo growls, already turning toward the elevators. “I’m going to my dorm. Later, extras.”

And just like that, he’s gone, the air still charged in his wake.

one new message from minaaa <3! 📧

© 2025 bratzblondie — All rights reserved. Don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

[nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma]

HOTD with book ages vs show casting

It's interesting to think about how fans perceptions of characters would be radically different if we had book accurate casting.

Emily Carey (aged 18-19 here) is perfectly age-accurate to play an 18-year-old Alicent.

Meanwhile Paddy Considine, at 48, was pushing it a fair bit to play a 29-year-old Viserys.

For reference, Tom Glynn-Carney was 28 while filming Season 2.

So not that he's my fancast for young Paddy or anything, but let's be real. You would all be writing self-insertxVizzy fics. Alicent would have no more agency in the marriage if Viserys was his book age than his show age, but fan perceptions of Viserys would definitely be different if he was played by a young and attractive actor (no offense of course to Paddy, he is serving Targaryen realness etc.)

Or look at Fabian Frankel. He would have been around 27/28 while filming season 1. You were shipping Alicole back when Emily Carey was still in the role, after all.

And then there's Rhaenyra, who was 8 during the events of the first episode, and 9 when Viserys married Alicent.

Milly Alcock, roughly 21 here, is just a tad older than 8-year-old Rhaenyra.

Amelie Child-Villiers would have been 12-13 while filming Rings of Power, so older than Rhaenyra at the very beginning but can pass for younger.

To anyone who thinks a child Rhaenyra wouldn't have been interesting to follow, er... have you read ASOIAF? There are quite a few prominent child POV characters, you may have noticed. And Alicent doesn't automatically become uninteresting if she's 18 rather than 15... or 40.

I mean I get it, Rhaenycent shippers, you prefer the sapphic dynamic in HOTD... and it is absolutely fine to prefer something! But it isn't inherently deeper or more interesting. It isn't objectively better. BFFesbians can be just as one-note as you claim step-mother/daughter relationships are with the wrong writing, and step-mother/daughter relationships can be richly complicated.

Now, I've already gone through the absolute horror that is book Rhaenyra and book Criston

Criston Cole was 22 when he met a 7-year-old Rhaenyra, 23 during the events of the first episode. So Fabian at 27 (pictured here) is a a few years older, but his age gap with Amelie is the same as Criston and Rhaenyra. And yikes. This is why 'Criston the Dad who Stepped Up' posts make me throw up in my mouth. (Also it is so weird that Criston is never recast after the time jump even though the actor is younger than Emma D'Arcy - Criston is 47 during the Dance).

And yes, Daemon has a similar age gap with Rhaenyra

Daemon was 24 during the events of the first episode. Though I would add that Daemon wasn't, contrary to popular opinion by greens, grooming Rhaenyra when she was a young child. There isn't really any indication that he paid particular attention to his 8-year-old niece - he was mostly sulking on Dragonstone in a relationship with an adult Mysaria for starters, and then he was off in the Stepstones till Viserys and Alicent's 5th wedding anniversary tourney.

From then, no I'm not in favour of a 30-year-old Daemon and a 15-year-old Rhaenyra... I am not in favour of childbrideros. But considering he'd been absent from her life between the ages of 8-15, and there is no indication he ever paid any attention to her before then... it is less creepy than Criston Cole being Rhaenyra's shadow from the age of 7, with rumours of a sexual relationship beginning at a point when she would have been 12-14.

By Westeros standards Daemon unfortunately falls into the 'culturally normalised and could have a whole lot worse' category (and tbf, considering the popularity of ships like SanSan...). This isn't a pro-daemyra or anti-daemyra post, I'm not really going to go into their relationship or whether or not it's healthy here, just clarifying that Daemon isn't the Humbert Humbert of this story - that would be Criston (not being Humbert Humbert of course is a very low bar).

And when it comes to the casting and how that impacts audience perceptions... Matt Smith at 39 was too old for both 24 and 30 year-old Daemon (though exquisite in the role of course).

Considering how his haters condemn Daemon for his actions in episode 1 while excusing Aegon for rape and Aemond for murdering Luke (and burning alive many many other children)... Let's have a look at an age-appropriate actor for 24-year-old Daemon and see if that changes anything.

Ooh would you look at that, Ewan Mitchell at 24 while filming S1.

Or Tom at 28 during S2, just two years younger than 30-year-old Daemon. With a face that wins hearts over rape. You telling me if Daemon was his book age you wouldn't be excusing his actions? You wouldn't be taking all the rape apology arguments Aegon stans use and applying them to Daemon's seduction of a 15-year-old Rhaenyra?

Especially if you still had him acting alongside 21-year-old Milly, who was supposed to pass for a 14 to 18-year-old Rhaenyra.

Hopefully though no one would be excusing a younger Daemon played by Tom Glynn-Carney if he had been put against an actual 14/15 year-old like Evie Allen. Who would have been a more age-accurate (and disturbing) casting for Rhaenyra...

Oh wait, how old was Maddie Evans (Dyana) while filming S1 again? 15? Never mind.

Casting teenagers in such scenarios is of course a difficult business - above all the first priority is to protect underage actors. Milly was well-suited to convincingly play Rhaenyra from early teens to late teens, and it's impossible to constantly re-cast for absolute age-accuracy across the time jumps. But it does impact perception - while the first priority is to protect underage actors, the casting of older actors to play teenagers does contribute to society's perceptions of teenage girls in particular as mature adults, rather than children.

Meanwhile the attractiveness of adult male actors - and the younger they are - does indeed shape what some audiences are willing to forgive or excuse. Reactions to Daemon and Viserys by fans (especially green fans) would be radically different if they were cast with their book ages - sorry to say it greens, but your objections to their characters is in large part due to the fact that you are not attracted to DILFS (or leprosy!). And even if we still aged up Rhaenyra like the show does when she first met Criston Cole, reactions to him during the Dance would be vastly different if he was played by a book-accurate 47-year-old. Again, Fabian Frankel is younger than Emma D'arcy.

Of course, the bar for age accurate casting is clear in the way we were supposed to accept Olivia Cooke playing Tom Glynn Carney's mother (they are two years apart).

Because again if Alicent had been 18 at the start of the show and 41 at the start of the dance she would have ceased to be an interesting character or something I guess. Because no one wants an older woman (ew gross!) as the series co-lead alongside a non-binary lead. And because mother/stepdaughter relationships are inherently one-note while BFFesbians are inherently rich, deep and complex... apparently. It has nothing to do with, you know, the writing quality.

Final Round!!! Aegon and Aemond picking fights with kids

Harvey Sadler here is 8/9 years old when he played young Lucerys. Which makes this baby face 2-3 years older than... a six-year-old Book Jacaerys when 10-year-old Aemond was 'pummelling him savagely'.

So yeah, "3 against 1" - the oldest of those 3 being younger than Harvey Sadler. And honestly, 6-year-old Jace has my undying respect for the sheer balls on him to go up against a bigger kid twice his age and size. Does he care that Aemond has just claimed the largest dragon in the world? No, he pushed over his baby brother!

"But it's more interesting if Aemond and Jace are peers" Maybe. If HOTD gave Jace equal screentime and character development perhaps. But they didn't. Any value added by making the antagonist interesting and sympathetic is cancelled out if the cost is ignoring the protagonist or making the protagonist boring (especially in a family civil war drama!).

"But sympathetic Aemond is much more interesting" I am not arguing against making him sympathetic. He is still a kid here, and he still has Aegon to bully him and earn him pity points and trigger a cycle of bullying as he takes out his grievances on others who don't deserve it etc. You don't need to age up his victims or remove sympathy or screentime from them. Sympathy doesn't have to be zero-sum.

Leo Hart was 13 at the time of filming, so the perfect age to play a 12-year-old Jace during the dinner scene where a grown-ass Aegon picks a fight with him over asking Helaena for a dance. Also an accurate age to play a 13-year-old Luke when Aemond murders him.

Elliot Grihault who played teenaged Luke was meanwhile actually closer in age to Book Jace during the dance than Harry Collett (no offence Harry, you still made a more believable teenager than 24-year-old Jon Snow did).

And lest we forget Aegon's true nemesis... 13 year old girls on tiny dragons 'no bigger than a horse'. No offence to a 24-year-old Bethany Antonia, but Shani Smethurst at 12 was perfectly cast to play Baela during the Dance and absolutely would have been the next Arya if this show didn't hate black girls.

But hey, at least we got adult Baela saying "I am blood and fire" while the script struggles (*cough doesn't bother) to find her anything to really do. That sure is an improvement over book Baela acting out, causing chaos, kissing kitchen boys and crying to save them from punishment, grieving alone on dragonstone after the gullet, trying desperately to get the adults around her to believe her suspicions about Grey Ghost, wrecking Aegon on her tiny dragon, being forced to grow up quickly under captivity and fiercely defending her rescuers from execution.

[not-freyja]

New Zelda Game!

Okay cool, cool cool cool cool, I am calm, I am so fucking calm. Looks like Nintendo is staying true to their word that Wild is not getting another game, so now the questions are, what Link is this, where are we in the Timeline, and what information about the game itself can we pick out of these crumbs?

Whose Zelda is it anyway?

So two options:

New boy.

Legend. It’s fucking Legend again sucks to suck bro

Case for new Link and Zelda:

Less messy for the Lore

That’s it, that is the only argument

Case for Leggy boy and Fable:

LA animation style! While it can be fun to bring back older styles of animation for nostalgia/artistic reasons, that seems like a poor choice for *LOZ* games, which are always on the edge of what a game can do. Moving “backwards,” so to speak, in any aspect, would be a disservice to the franchise. However, doing it to maintain consistency for a particular character, and to use the animation style to make sure the audience knows this is the same character from LA is a very simple but effective tactic.

The map! So that shot was so BOTW and so fun, but the view we got wasn’t just recognizable as “Hyrule,” is was, down to the relative heights on the mountain cliffs against each other, the map from ALTTP/ALBW. Nintendo has never repeated a map without it being the same Link. So! Checkmate motherfuckers.

The character designs. That… that was just Legend and Fable, come on. Look at the dress. Every Zelda has a slightly different costume design, and that was hers. Look at Link. Baby boy!

I want this. Let me have it.

Timeline positioning

Okay so if we assume that this is in fact Legend, the next question becomes, “When is it?” Leggy boy currently has 5 games that are canonically his. (Triforce Heroes could be a random other Link, so while we like to say 6 we can’t *prove it.*) So. Let’s break it down.

ALTTP: canonically his first game, can’t be before this one.

Oracles: canonically happen after ALTTP, and he is very much still a child in here.

LA: the game this one is artistically modeled after. Narratively this fits nicely right after Oracles, and in the canon timeline, fits between Oracles and ALBW, so I think a whole new game being crowbarred prior to this one would be… not great for the narrative.

ALBW: This is trickier. No canon time between LA and ALBW is given, it could be a week, it could be years. It is entirely possible that Echoes of Wisdom occurs prior to ALBW, which would make it a direct sequel to LA, which makes the art style make even more sense. It could also be after?

…hang on a fucking minute, lets get the fucking map.

Left, ALTTP. Right, ALBW

Basically the same map! Duh, it’s the same Hyrule. But. BUT. Bottom right, in the lake. Do you see that?!

ALTTP: no log bridge. ALBW: Log bridge. Now, let’s look at the pretty picture from the EOW trailer.

NO FUCKING LOG BRIDGE!

This is before ALBW. Therefore, the game order for The Hero of Legend is

ALTTP, OOS, OOA, LA, EOW, ALBW, TH(maybe)

*cue manic laughter*

Lore Implications

Ganon.

There being a Ganon at all actually has me pointing my finger at the Oracle games and screaming. The TL;DR in those is that there was a plot to resurrect Ganon, each game Twinrova gets closer, but Link stops them. Now, there were also supposed to be three of those games, which means that it is entirely possible that the third unseen Oracle plot—please Nintendo let Link and Farore hang out, I am on my knees barking like a dog—could have resulted in his resurrection. This is the only explanation I have that doesn’t break the Lore or involve Time Shenanigans.

Also, Link does KO the bitch in that opening scene in the trailer. His presence is either just that—a set-up plot point—or him and Link are currently duking it out in the hole. Fun!

Link and Zelda

Now this game is going to put their relationship in the front in the “I have to save them because I love them” way that we usually see from Link’s POV.

Getting it from Zelda’s POV is going to be very interesting. We might be getting a look into her head, into her feelings and thoughts about the whole ordeal of the Legend itself. I hope so. But also, this isn’t just Link and Zelda, this is *Fable and Legend* specifically. The two that were meant to be be siblings but the dialogue that established them as such was cut from the final version of ALTTP. So. This game has the possibility to do three things

Canonize the Prince Legend thing, like they were going to do in the nineties.

Not address the topic at all, leave it nebulous.

Zelink.

None of these are bad choices, but option two is definitely the safest. Both options one and three will cause an uproar from part of the fan base. I can already see the ship wars. Please don’t do this people. Please.

The Holes 🕳️

What are they? Where did they come from? Ganon’s Trident Where do they go? No actually, where do they go? The Dark World (doesn’t make sense in the Lore)? Lorule (that would be a choice)? The Twilight Realm (I am convinced that Lorule and the Twilight Realm are the same place actually and you cannot change my mind)? Some new never seen before parallel dimension? A non-place, like a gap between realities (sexiest option)? I have no idea!

Fun!

That fucking “Fairy”

Tri? Don’t trust it. Will not trust it. Never trust that a companion in a LOZ game is what they first appear to be. Who does Nintendo take me for? A fucking amateur?!

Anyway, I am about 40% convinced that’s Link. I have evidence, but it is circumstantial.

I AM HANDLING THIS NORMALLY.

[coco-cinnamon]

Safe With You | JJ Maybank

୨୧ Warnings: Cursing, smut, angst, soft!sex, unprotected sex, soft!JJ, abuse, violence, has a fluffy ending, 18+ MDNI.

୨୧ Pairings: JJ Maybank x Female Kook Reader

୨୧ Summary: In which JJ helps his girlfriend get away from his father when she goes over to his home to see him.

୨୧ Word Count: 1.5k

୨୧ Author's Note: this fic is from my old blog @babeydollx. this and most of my other fics will be reposted over here to my new blog. Also I fr have no idea why this fic is written from my pov and not Y/N's because that isn't usually how I write but I was too lazy to fix it, sorry! Maybe someday lol.

© coco-cinnamon 2024, please do not steal, copy, modify, repost, or translate my work.

I arrived at JJ's house to see him. JJ and I rarely got time to see eachother since we were on different sides of the island. My parents always had me busy with some shit all the time. It was exhausting and annoying.

I never had time for JJ anymore and I hated it. So, I decided that I would surprise him at his house to see him. I missed him so much and I knew that he missed me too. I couldn't wait to see JJ again and be in his arms.

I walked up to the house and knocked on the door. I waited for a minute or two but there was no answer. I could hear movement inside of the house so I knew that someone had to be home. You decided to try and open the door.

When I turned the door knob the door easily opened. I slowly walked inside and looked around. The house was messy and I could smell beer and weed. As I looked around, I jumped when I herd glass shatter. 

What the hell was going on? Was JJ okay? Was someone trying to hurt him? Millions of questions and thoughts flooded my head as I looked for JJ. The sounds were coming from the backyard. I dashed out to the backyard to see JJ on the ground with an older man on top of him and punching him.

"Stop! Stop hurting him! Please!" I screamed as I ran over to the two men in the backyard. I couldn't pull the older man of of JJ so I grabbed a empty beer bottle off of the ground and smashed it over his head.

Luke stopped punching JJ and got dizzy before collapsing on the ground. JJ sat up on the ground and looked over at me in shock. 

"What the hell are you doing here?!" JJ asked.

"I- I came to see you.." I said.

"Didn't I tell you to not come here?" He asked.

"You did but, it had been so long since I saw you so I thought I could surprise you. I didn't expect for any of this to happen. Who is he? Why was he hurting you?" You asked.

"He's, uhm... he's my dad." JJ mumbled. 9

"He's your father?!" I asked in shock. JJ nodded. "Why would he hurt you?!" I yelled.

"I don't know. Cause he is constantly drunk and high I guess." He shrugged. "I'm use to it by now, he's been doing it for years." JJ said. I could feel tears pooling in my eyes. This was absolutely heartbreaking. How could a parent do this to their child?

Before I could say anything else to JJ, someone tackled me to the ground harshly. I screamed when it happened. 

"GET OFF OF HER!" JJ yelled. Luke was on top of me. I tried to fight Luke off but he began to hit me hard. I screamed and cried more as he continued to hit me. I could hear JJ yelling and trying to pull his father off of me.

Finally, JJ had got Luke off of me and began to beat the shit out of Luke. I scrambled to my feet and watched the scene go down. I could feel tears streaming down my face still and I was in pain. After a few minutes of JJ beating Luke up, he finally got off of him and ran over to me.

He hugged me and I hid my face in his chest. I finally felt safe. I knew that even if Luke woke up again that JJ would keep me safe, he would make sure that Luke wouldn't hurt me again or worse. 

"Are you okay, Y/N?!" JJ asked worried as he checked me for any terrible injuries. 

"I'm okay." I said with a sniffle and nodded. 

"I am so sorry that this happened to you. You shouldn't have had to see any of this." JJ said with a frown as he hugged me again. 

"I'm sorry that you have had to go through this for years.." I said with a frown. "Why didn't you tell me this was happening to you?" I asked.

"Because I didn't want you to worry. This isn't your burden to bare, Y/N.." He said. 

"JJ.. we're a team. You can tell me anything and everything, okay? Whatever you are dealing with, I want to be there for you to help you." I said. JJ nodded slowly. "Anyways, did you want to stay the night at my place tonight? My parents are out of town so we have the house to ourselves." I said with a smile.

"That would be nice. Thanks, Y/N." He said with a smile.

"Anytime." I said as JJ and I get ready to go to my house.

We arrived at my house and went inside together. I got both of us a water bottle and then we both went upstairs to my bedroom. I gave him his water bottle and sat down on the bed beside him and we talked for a while. After we both chatted for a bit, we both went silent not knowing what to do next.

"So, what now?" I asked looking over at JJ. He sat there thinking for a moment before looking back over at me. A smirk spread across his face.

"I have a few ideas." He said with a smirk. Before I could ask him any questions he kissed me passionately. I kissed back, melting into the kiss. The was he kissed me was magical. He always knew how to make me feel a certain way without even trying. 

As we made out, he gently pushed me down onto my back onto the bed. I ran my hands through his soft, blond hair as the two of us made out. Once we got both of our clothes off and out of the way, JJ was positioning himself between my legs.

I held onto his shoulders tightly and sucked in a breath as JJ slowly pushed inside of me. I gasped and moaned out softly. He groaned quietly as he bottomed out. He then began to thrust into me.

I gently threw my head back and groaned out. I held onto him tightly as he fucked into me, slowly picking up the pace. He continued to slowly pick up the pace until he was fucking me at an ungodly pace.

I moaned out even louder than I did before. I arched my back off of the bed and moaned out, almost screaming at this point. I could feel that familiar knot bubbling in the bottom of my stomach and I knew that I was going to cum any second now. I then clenched around JJ, signaling to him that I was going to cum. 

"Fuck, you gonna cum, princess?" He asked as he groaned out.

"Yes, fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!" I yelled. 

"Come on, cum for me." JJ said. With that my eyes rolled back and my legs began to shake as I came hard on JJ's hard cock. He thrusted into me a few more times before coming himself, shooting his load deep inside of me.

JJ pulled out of me and I laid their trying to catch my breath. He laid down beside me and he was also trying to catch his breath. After we both took some time to come down from that, JJ smiled and gently pulled me over and snuggled me.

I giggled when he did so. I always loved to be in JJ's arms. He always made me feel so safe. We both laid there together and talked for awhile while we were tangled in each other's arms. After we both talked and snuggled, we both fell asleep together.

I woke up the next morning to see that JJ was no longer in bed with me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes before looking around my bedroom. No sign of JJ. As I was about to go look around the house for JJ, I saw a note on my bedside table.

I took the note off of the table and unfolded it before reading it. 

Thanks for letting me stay the night at your house, Y/N. Again, I am so sorry that you had to witness all of that yesterday and go through that. I promise I will come back later, I just have a few things to sort out with my dad. I love you, Y/N.

- JJ

I smiled at the note that JJ left me. I thought it was so sweet that he had decided to write me a note. I missed JJ so much already but, I couldn't wait to see JJ again.

Author's Note: tysm for reading, lovies!

[lustfulslxt]

What Are You Doing Step Sis? - Matt Sturniolo

summary : y/n and matt can’t keep the naughty thoughts out of their heads when matt helps her with her math. she tempts him, he gives in

warnings : step sibling kink, smut, swearing, 3rd person pov

a/n : again, i don't want to hear anything about how gross this is. THEY'RE NOT RELATED!!!!!!!! if you're not into this, keep scrolling! x

--

It's been a good hour of Y/N staring at the man in front of her. Every word he said about anything even closely relating to the subject at hand went in one ear and out the other. She couldn't help but take in all of his features, indulging in the beauty of him. There was no denying the attraction Y/N felt towards Matthew. His innocence simply made her want to freak him.

His long slender fingers scrolling through the pages before them, tapping alongside the edges of the paper, flicking the pencil up and down. The veins in his hand prominently protruding, practically causing her to salivate in front of him. The way he would furrow his eyebrows in concentration, his tongue licking his inner cheek. His pink lips puckering and twisting every so often.

Without a doubt in her mind, Y/N was sure Matthew wasn't so innocent underneath the layers of the 'good little son' facade that he portrayed. He played the act very well, but she could see right through him. Imagining what he's truly like underneath had her clenching her thighs from the thoughts alone.

"Y/N, are you even listening?" His voice snapped her from her trance. "How am I supposed to help you if you aren't paying attention?"

She frowns, "I am paying attention!"

"To what?" He chuckles, his white teeth sparkling in the glowing light from her bedside lamp. "It sure isn't what I'm trying to teach you."

"Fair." She smirks, "You're distracting!"

He gapes at her, "I'm distracting? I'm literally talking about quadratic equations."

Y/N bites her lip to prevent her smile from growing. She shrugs, innocently staring up into his eyes. He clears his throat and breaks eye contact with her, ushering her to pay attention to the books before them. Y/N leans closer to him, directing her attention to the laid-out textbooks. She can hear his breath slightly hitch at their close proximity, causing her to grin to herself.

"Okay, continue." She speaks.

He clears his throat once more, shaking his head. "Right."

He can't lie, there's something about her that draws him in. He's so captivated by everything about her. Her sweet voice that he wants to hear in a different setting. Her glowing skin that he just wants to paint with his seed. Her soft hair that he just wants to wrap around his hand. Her body that curves in all the right places, oh, how he just wants to make it shake with orgasm after orgasm.

Y/N feels the same way. It doesn't take a genius to know Matt's a freak in the sheets. Her desire for him only grows more and more each day, tempting her to give in to the fantasy in her head. She struggles to control herself sometimes. Being stepsiblings doesn't help either, the thought of sneaking around with him turns her on.

A few days ago, she asked him to tutor her. She was failing math, and she didn't want to have to retake the class next year. He's a year older, so a year ahead as well, and he was the perfect person to help her, seeing as he's crazy smart. Sure, she really wanted to pass, but she couldn't help but daydream about naughty things every time he helped her.

"You're not a virgin, are you?" Y/N randomly asks, catching Matt off guard.

He coughs a little, choking on the built-up saliva from her being in his presence. "What?!"

"Oh, come on." She glances at him, noticing the faint blush spread across his cheeks. "It's just a question."

It's silent for a moment, the only sound being Matt's pencil dragging across the paper, leaving traces of lead behind. Y/N watches as his eyebrows furrow in thought, his lips twisting at the same time.

"I'm not." He answers, his voice quiet but firm.

She grins in response, "You're a slut, aren't you?"

His mouth falls open, his eyes wide. From the sudden bizarre question, the pencil falls from his fingers and hits the floor. Before he can grab it, she holds her hand up.

"I'll get it." She says in a sultry voice.

She places her hand on his upper thigh, using it as support as she leans down. Her ass slightly lifts up with her movement, the straps from her thong showing from beneath her shorts. Matt can't help but stare at the strings gripping onto her hips so perfectly. He wishes he could replace them with his hands as he takes her from behind.

She grabs the pencil and pops back up, holding it in between their faces. She can see his cheeks growing darker, his lips glistening with saliva from licking them as he stared at her behind. She smirks at him, grabbing his hand with her opposite one, guiding him to take the pencil from her, since he's just staring.

"Right. Sorry." He mutters, visibly shaking his head.

He grabs a textbook and places it over his lap, covering the slight bulge. His action doesn't go unseen, causing Y/N to smirk even more. Definitely a slut.

"Where were we?" She asks, her doe eyes gazing into his.

She'd look so innocent and sexy on her knees, staring into his eyes with his cock sliding down her throat. Her pretty luscious lips wrapped snugly around him, drool dripping from the corners of her mouth. Her small, manicured fingers placed onto his thighs as she gracefully let him shove his cock in and out of her.

"What are you thinking about, hm?" Her voice snaps him from his thoughts.

He looks like a deer in headlights, eyes wide like he's been caught. He quickly recomposes himself, "What's the difference between a mathematical sentence versus a mathematical expression?"

She groans, falling back onto her bed. "You're no fun."

He intently watches the way her boobs bounce with her movement, and the way her shirt lifts up to expose her stomach. He closes his eyes, deeply inhaling to calm himself down. She's not even doing much, and he's getting so worked up, but he knows she knows what she's doing.

"You asked me to tutor you, that's what I'm doing." He responds, firmly.

"Fair enough." She mutters, allowing them to get back to the subject at hand.

-

Another hour or so goes by, both of them strictly focusing on math. They both had internal struggles, wanting nothing more than to toss the books away and go at it on the bed. It's the simplest things that the both of them do, driving one another insane.

"Alright, we'll stop here." Matt says, closing the book he had.

Y/N pouts, "Already?"

He chuckles, "It's been two hours. We can start back up tomorrow."

She huffs, nodding in agreement. She really didn't want him to go. "Wanna stay and watch a movie?"

He gives her a look, like he knows what's on her mind, yet still shrugs. "Sure. Let me take a quick shower first."

"Okay, I'll take one too. Just come back in here when you're done." She says.

The two get up, Matt going to his room, Y/N packing away her school supplies. She feels giddy, knowing he's coming back to her room to watch a movie with her. She quickly grabs her a change of clothes and tosses them on her bed, before heading to the bathroom down the hall. Since Matt's older, their parents agreed he could have the bedroom with the conjoined bathroom. It didn't seem fair to Y/N, but she had no say in it.

After shutting herself in the bathroom, she got her shower started and began removing her clothes. Before she could get in, soft knocks sounded through the door. She grinned to herself, knowing her and Matt are the only one's home. Without a second thought, she opens the door, revealing her fully nude body.

"Holy shit." Matt breathes, unable to keep his eyes from trailing over every inch of her. He quickly catches himself and puts a hand over his eyes. "Why wouldn't you cover up?"

"I'm about to get in the shower." She states in an obvious tone. "Need something?"

"My speaker." He states, keeping his hand firmly placed over his eyes to block his vision.

She opens the door wider, trying to let him inside. When she doesn't say anything, he peeks through his hand, only to see her still standing there, naked. His breath hitches before he closes his hand and slowly attempts to walk towards the sink with no sight. Y/N smirks, walking over to the sink and grabs the speaker for him. Unbeknownst to Matt, she's now directly in front of him. He reaches his hand out, accidentally grazing the soft skin right below her chest.

"Oh my god." He mutters, breathless. He quickly yanks his hand back, grazing over her hard nipple in the process. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." She whispers, "I liked it."

He drops the hand covering his eyes and stares at her. His cheeks grow hotter, his dick twitching at the sight before him. She looks like a goddess. He's frozen in his spot as he towers over her. She looks so innocent, but he knows it's all an act. She can't help but clench around nothing as she gazes up at him. He's so fucking hot, staring down at her like he wants her for his next meal.

"Here you go." She says, her voice barely audible.

He quickly grabs the speaker and turns around, practically running out of the bathroom. He's got a problem that he needs to go fix. Y/N lets out a soft chuckle, returning to her previous task. She gets in the shower, washing up as she's eager to get out and have a movie night with Matt.

While Matt's in the shower, his mind keeps going back to the sight of Y/N naked in front of him. She looked so good, and it's going straight to his dick. Her plump breasts sitting just right on her chest, her nipples poking out. He just wants to grip her tits, sucking and biting all over them. He wants her thick thighs to wrap around his head as he devours her pussy, his tongue gliding all over it, inside and out. Fuck. His dick began throbbing, needy for some kind of stimulation.

After pondering for a moment, he wraps his hand around it and shudders from the sensation. Slowly, he began pumping his hand, squeezing and twisting along the way. His thumb occasionally rubs over his tip, causing him to gasp at the pleasure. His arm flexes, speeding up its pace, jerking his cock with desperation. Flashes of Y/N naked run through his mind again, egging him on. What he would do to be able to get his hands on her.

He tosses his head back, a throaty moan emitting from his mouth. Precum dribbles from his red tip, he rubs his thumb back over it, spreading it around. He can't help but think about how pretty she is, and what she would look like sprawled out for him, legs spread wide open just for him. How wet he could get her, her pretty, pink pussy dripping with arousal. Watching her clench around nothing, desperate for him to fuck her.

His grip tightens around his cock, eliciting another groan from his throat. He can feel his release coming soon. Suddenly, he's very aware that he's touching himself to his stepsister, and quickly stops.

"What am I doing?" He groans and quickly turns the faucet, the hot water instantly running ice cold as it hits him.

He shakes his head, ridding it of the naughty thoughts of the girl in the room next door. He continues on with his shower, quickly washing up just to be in the same room as her again.

Once Y/N finishes her shower, she shuts the water off and wraps herself in her towel. Turning the light off, she heads back to her room. When she notices Matt's bedroom door open, she slows her pace, strutting pass the room. Inside, Matt sees her and feels his stomach tighten. That shower was no good for him, having denied himself of his incoming orgasm, he's now on edge. The way her body is covered in pellets of water, each drop glistening in the hallway light, only makes it harder on him.

When Y/N gets to her room, she quickly dries off and tosses her towel in the hamper. She slips on a clean thong, topping her bottom with the smallest pair of shorts she owns. Lastly, she pulls on small baby tee, purposely not wearing a bra. Just as she pulls it over her head, a couple of knocks sound through her door before it slowly opens.

"You decent this time?" Matt asks, and that's when she notices his eyes are closed.

She giggles, "Yes, Matthew."

"Just making sure." He chuckles, "Don't want a repeat of earlier?"

"You don't?" She asks in a seductive tone, her eyes submissively staring up into his.

He goes to respond, but no words come out. His mouth runs dry as he gazes down at her. He can see her nipples poking through her shirt and he just wants to wrap his lips around them.

He clears his throat, "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" She whispers, stepping closer to him.

She can see him gulp, nervous from their close proximity. Even though he tries to hide it, she knows what he wants. She can practically see the sweat dripping down his forehead. Her hand runs up his arm, goosebumps rising along with it. Unfortunately for her, he takes a step back.

"That." He forces out. "Don't do that."

She shrugs, a smile playing on her lips. She motions to her bed, letting him pass her to take a seat. He sits on the left side, leaning against the headboard as he lays his legs out. She saunters over to her dresser that her TV sits on, bending over to make sure it's plugged in, even though she knows it is. She just wants to tease him.

And it works. Matt's breath catches in his throat for what feels like the millionth time tonight. His eyes burning holes into her behind. The shorts she's wearing leave nothing to imagine as they ride up her ass, hugging her center that peeks from between her legs. Imagining his cock prod against her entrance, he feels himself growing beneath his sweatpants. Matt quickly grabs one of her extra pillows and places it on his lap, folding his hands on top of it. When Y/N turns around, she instantly notices the pillow and smirks to herself, knowing what he's hiding.

She gets on the right side of the bed, but lies on her stomach at the opposite end, her feet closer to the top of the bed and her head at the end. Her hand takes the remote and flicks through Netflix, browsing for something to watch. Matt stares at the TV intently, forcing himself to keep his eyes there instead of wandering like they so badly want to.

"This, okay?" She asks, glancing back at him. 

He nods, not caring what they watch for he won't be able to pay attention to it.

Y/N clicks play and lets the fun begin. Matt's eyes involuntarily fall to her plump ass that's basically in his face. He wants to reach out and grip the plush skin, massaging it. He can't help but imagine himself removing her clothing and spreading her cheeks, letting a long string of saliva fall in between and drip down her core. He imagines himself rubbing her folds, mixing his spit in with her own juices, his fingers putting pressure wherever she needs it. He thinks about the erotic sounds she would make from his touches. His dirty thoughts only cause his dick to grow even more.

Suddenly, Y/N hitches her left leg up, her knee now beside her waist, perfectly exposing her clothed pussy. Matt has to suppress the moan that threatens to leave his mouth from the sight. She's driving him crazy. Y/N subtly shifts her hips, and Matt can't take his eyes away. The piece of clothing that is supposed to cover her up isn't doing a very great job, seeing as it's now pulled to the side a bit, revealing the smallest glimpse of her pussy.

Without thinking, Matt slides his hand underneath the pillow and grasps at his clothed cock. He's rock hard already. He slightly palms himself, his eyes boring into the girl lying in front of him.

"Not really sure I'm getting into this." Y/N's voice suddenly rings through the air, causing Matt to halt his movement as they lock eyes.

"D-do you want to put on something else?" He asks, his breath rather choppy.

She rolls onto her back, putting her knees up so she's spread just for him. "Or we could just talk."

Matt can't tear his eyes away from her center, yearning to remove the fabric covering it and dive in. He licks his lips, his teeth tugging on bottom one as he tries to control himself.

"Come down here with me." She speaks, pulling him from his thoughts.

He takes a deep breath before crawling down beside her. He lays on his side to prevent himself from crushing his hard on. He props himself up on his elbow, his hand holding his head as he faces her. She turns to look at him and smiles.

"Do you think we would've ever met if our parents never got together?" She asks.

"I don't know. Maybe." He answers, his eyes never leaving her face.

"We do go to the same school." She adds, "I'd like to think we would've."

He whispers back, "Me too."

She takes his free hand and plays with his fingers. He's desperately trying to make his erection go away, but to no avail, it's as hard as ever. Luckily for him, she hasn't noticed it. Yet.

"Do you ever wish our parents never met?" She questions, staring deeply into his eyes, trying to read every emotion.

"I don't know. Do you?"

She sighs, dropping his hand which so happens to fall on her chest. He tenses but can't bring himself to pull away. He can feel her heartbeat below his palm, the heat of her skin engulfing his hand. She loves the feeling of his hand on her, but still wishes the piece of clothing wasn't keeping them from being skin to skin.

She moves her leg slightly, accidentally brushing against his dick. His breathing comes to a stop from the contact, and he prays she doesn't feel how hard he is, but she does. However, she chooses not to speak on it. She only grins to herself as she moves her leg back to where it was, her heels below her ass, her center on show. After thinking for a second, she brings her hand down and places it on his cock, causing him to gasp.

"What are you doing?"

"Hmm?" She hums, innocently.

"W-what are you doing?" He repeats.

She locks eyes with him, "Do you want me to stop?"

His mouth parts as she begins to palm him. His eyes flutter close for just a second before they open and his hand wraps around her wrist. "No, but you probably should."

Despite what he says, he doesn't move her hand. She grabs him through his sweats, moving in a jerking motion. He bites down on his bottom lip, desperate to not make a sound, but the slightest touch from her feels so good. With her free hand, she removes his hand that’s on her wrist and moves it to her core.

"Fuck." He groans, feeling the heat of her on his hand.

"Want to?" She smirks, causing his eyes to widen.

"W-we can't." He stutters, shaking his head.

She only continues palming him through his sweatpants. "Then why haven't you moved your hand?"

"Because I don't want to." He chokes out, applying pressure to her pussy.

She lets a small moan slip, enjoying the feeling. The noise she lets out seems to go right through him, because he's suddenly pressing down harder as he cups her, eliciting another delicious sound from her. As if he can't help it, he's rubbing his palm into her, causing her to buck her hips. Her grip on his covered cock tightens, desperate to make him feel good.

"We shouldn't be doing this." He grunts out, thrusting into her hand.

She moans as he continues rubbing her through her shorts. "Then stop."

"I can't." He croaks out, suddenly hovering over her with his crotch pressed into hers. "You drive me fucking crazy."

With that, he smashes his lips onto hers in a hot and needy kiss. He grinds down into her, moans coming from both of them. His hand grips her throat as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. He thrusts into her again, causing her to gasp from the sensation. He takes the opportunity to shove his tongue in her mouth, exploring it. Their tongues dance together, soft and wet.

His mouth moves from hers and onto her neck. Her breathing grows erratic as she pants in his ear, the feeling of his lips working her sensitive skin getting the best of her. She's been waiting for this moment ever since she laid eyes on him.

He can't get enough of her. Her honey vanilla scent floods his senses as he buries his face into the crook of her neck. Her soft skin tastes sweet under his tongue as he licks and sucks the skin. His teeth graze over it, nibbling down to leave behind bruises. He continues down her shoulder, leaving open mouthed kisses. He leaves a wet trail of saliva in his wake, Y/N moaning at the feeling.

"God, I want you so bad." He moans against her as his sucks on her collarbone.

"T-take me." She breathes out, arching her back into him.

He lifts up her shirt, revealing her supple breasts. It only takes a mere second for his mouth to return to her, licking up from her navel to the valley of her breasts. She continuously whines underneath him. His mouth licks down her boob, taking her nipple in his mouth and harshly sucking on it. His hands run up her body, caressing all over her curves. His fingers tweak her opposite nipple, pinching it, eliciting a high-pitched moan from her.

"Sound so fucking pretty." He groans, moving his mouth to the opposite nipple, trading places with his hand.

She suddenly pushes him back, sitting up while doing so. He looks at her with a questioning glance. She quickly removes her shirt, so, he does the same. As soon as the pieces of clothing hit the floor, she's pressed back into the bed with him on top of her, their lips reuniting. Their kiss is feverish, teeth clashing, panting into one another's mouths.

"Are we really doing this?" He breathes.

"Please." She begs in a whine. "I need you, Matthew."

His eyes practically roll back into his head from the sound of her moaning his name. His fingers poke into the waistband of her shorts, swiftly pulling them and her panties down in one go. Yanking them off of her feet, he tosses them aside. Spreading her legs, he groans at the sight between them. Just as he expected.

Her pretty pink pussy glistens with juices, clenching, ready to be filled. His hands wrap around the outside of her thighs, his lips meeting the inner parts. He trails soft kisses along the skin, fueling her arousal. His lips nip at her thighs, teasing her, leaving her whining for more.

"Fuck, don't tease." She pleads, bucking her hips.

He chuckles, before finally complying, eager to taste her. He pokes his tongue out, dragging it from her sopping entrance up to her aching clit, pulling a long moan from her mouth. His tongue glides over every inch of her pussy, sucking in her juices.

"God, you taste so fucking good, baby."

Her hands grip his hair, tugging as she arches her back at his words. He moans into her center, sending vibrations through her body. He wraps his lips around her clit, sucking on it softly. His hand trails up her thigh, inching closer to her core. His mouth pulls away, peppering kisses along her thigh as his fingers glide through her lips.

Her skin is on fire beneath his touch. The way his hands massage into her, the way his mouth devours her. She's on cloud nine. Her stomach tightens, her orgasm building quickly as he continues working on her. She's hot below him, panting out every second. Her mind is hazy, fogged with arousal.

Suddenly, he shoves a finger into her, causing her to gasp from the shock. His finger pumps in and out of her, causing her legs to shake as the tense feeling in her stomach grows stronger. His mouth moves back to her clit, flicking his tongue on it over and over. She clenches her thighs around him, her orgasm hitting her out of nowhere. Continuous waves of pleasure wash over her as she trembles underneath him, her juices spilling out of her. He doesn't stop. He keeps going, adding another finger to her soaked entrance.

"S-shit, Matt. Too much." She cries out, pushing his head away.

"Fuck, I can't help it. You taste so good." He sighs, licking her fluids from his lips.

He pulls his hand away from her pussy, bringing his fingers to her mouth, and hungrily sucking them, desperate to taste more of her. He hovers back over her, slamming his lips onto hers once again, the remnants of her still on his lips. She can't help but moan into the kiss, already needing more.

"Want to feel you inside me." She breathes against his mouth.

"Thought it was too much?" He teases, causing her to push him back.

His head hits the pillows at the top of the bed, and she crawls on top of him, straddling his legs. She pulls at his sweatpants, pulling them and his boxers down. He lifts his hips to assist her, allowing her to fully remove them. She slides higher up, hovering over his member. She grabs his dick beneath her, stroking it a few times, before lining it up with her entrance and sinking down on it.

"Oh my god." He moans, tossing his head back.

Y/N leans forward, her face buried in his chest as she breathes heavily. She leaves soft kisses over his torso as she adjusts to his size. She sits back up, placing her hands on his chest for support. Slowly, she begins to rock against him, both of them lowly moaning from the feeling. His hands meet her hips, helping her move. They trail down to her ass, gripping it and lifting it up, pulling it back down onto her. Her pussy clenches around him, her juices lubricating her enough to slide up and down as she bounces.

"Feel so good." She whines, her eyes squeezing shut.

He licks his lips as he takes in her appearance, indulging in the way she looks as she takes all of him. Her boobs bounce up and down with every movement. He can't help but take them in his hands, kneading them in his palms. He bites his bottom lip as he thrusts deep into her, hitting the spongey spot that drives her insane. Her mouth falls open and her eyebrows furrow.

His hands wrap around her back, pulling her flush against his chest, and thrusts up into her repeatedly. Lewd moans continuously emit from her mouth, her body shaking above his. He groans beneath her, loving the way she wraps around him so perfectly. His hand grasps her jaw, pulling her face to his. He studies it for a moment, taking in the way the pleasure consumes her. Within seconds, his lips are capturing hers in a sloppy kiss.

His strokes speed up, leaving her body convulsing. She can't help the outpour of moans at this point. Tears well up in her eyes, the pleasure building up quickly. His thrusts grow erratic, his orgasm reaching its peak. With a loud groan, he's spilling his nut into her, coating her walls. The feeling of his warm, gooey seed filling her up causes her to let go, cumming all over his dick.

"Oh my god." They both moan in unison, causing them to breathily laugh together.

She falls against his torso, wore out from their activities. He runs his hands up her back and into her hair, gathering it and pulling it to one side and placing a few kisses on her exposed neck. On shaky knees, she lifts herself from him and falls to his side.

"That was insane." He breathes.

"Yeah." She agrees, a smile playing on her lips. "Can't wait to do it again."

The two look at each other with goofy grins on their faces before Matt leans over her from the side, wrapping his arms around her as he places his lips on hers once more.

"We're home!" A voice calls out from the opposite side of the house, causing them to look at one another with wide eyes. They quickly scramble to get dressed, laughter pouring out of them as they scurry to hide their previous activities and act normal.

—

a/n : i’ll take one pls thank u. enjoy xxx