#but in that moment imagine how it would feel)

[wonryllis]

WHEN THEY GET CAUGHT KISSING YOU.

﹙ ⌕ ﹚ 𝓅𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌 ㅤ𝑜𝑓. enhypen kissing their situationship and boom! caught. contains fem!r, kissing & kissing, embarrassed & bold enha, suggestive pg 16. wc 3090 ㅠㅠ, 420 something each. check out the d𝒾rectory? stat agora hills inspo.

𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖧𝖮𝖯𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖢𝖠𝖴𝖦𝖧𝖳 𝖴𝖲──────𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖴𝖭𝖦

“they won't find us i promise,” heeseung tries to reassure you, taking a step forward and closing the already negligible space between the two of you. the light from the vents at the top shinning right into his eyes and onto your lips. janitor's closet― your gaze boring into his brown orbs; his falling onto your gloss glimmering against the dark― a kiss that steals your breath.

his arms pull you close by the curve of your waist, gripping the flesh as the kiss grows intense, heavy breaths and sloppy tongues.

“why are we even hiding?” you pant out between the kisses, holding him close and as hooked onto the whole idea of a secret thing. this was lee heeseung. no, this is him. secret flings and hookups, no strings attached & no efforts to make it work. at least that's what you knew of him.

he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, looking straight into your eyes,“i thought you liked it? the whole ‘keeping it a secret’, the thrill of trying not to get caught?” but here he is, doing things you supposedly like, putting in effort.

“isn't this how you are?” casual, clandestine and off the record defined him in your world. “no god, not with you,” his voice is rasp with defence, words tumbling out in a brisk edge. he is not what you think he is. and to him you are so much more than you ever could imagine to be. his lips brush against yours,”i could never be that with you. i want you so much, you have no idea.” and he goes in for another kiss, this time more intimate and deep.

“i swear i saw him go in here!” sunoo's voice echoes outside in the corridor, “what would he even be doing in there?” and before you both can even register the situation, too lost in the kiss, jay hurtles the door open.

you immediately push heeseung away, his steps languid as he staggers back slightly. annoyed and frustrated at his friends for ruining the moment.

jay stands still by the door, holding it open while sunoo comes over to see what's going on. catching sight of the disheveled appearances and gasping breaths, smudged gloss and flushed faces― and a very bummed out heeseung running his fingers through his hair, throwing glare after glare.

“y'all were..” the two intruders trail off in shock. which only intensifies after heeseung slams the door shut in their faces,”busy.” and gets busy with you again.

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖩𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦

“are you sure the windows are tinted?” your question throws jay off for a second, of course it's valid to be worried about that. but you are literally in an empty parking lot, only about to kiss, not commit a crime or violate the laws of human decency. it'll just be a kiss, right?

“i’m sure, now come here,” his fingers wrap around your wrist, urging you to get onto his lap in the driver's seat. sighing in contentment once he feels you settle down comfortably. hands immediately reaching up to your waist in a delicate embrace. “don’t worry so much,” his voice is soft and calm, a high contrast to his heart skipping lanes in his chest.

“just think about me, focus on me,” words barely above a whisper before he kisses you.

his lips are chapped yet when they move against your own, they feel soft; a hint of champagne and waft of honey, floral notes and fruity taste of his drink from earlier at the after party. your hands slide around the back of his neck, tugging at the strands of his hair. faint sighs and low gasps fill the air, the tight space feeling sultry, growing fervid by the second.

it's dream-like, way too good and like floating in the clouds but the loud ringing of jay's phone snaps you both out of it.

riki is calling, the screen shows. he should probably pick it up. he should. yet you both collectively decide he can wait. everyone and everything besides the kiss can wait.

and that turns out to be a mistake. for not even five seconds into the second kiss, there's a thud against the window, riki’s face planted on the glass as he tries to look in,”he's in here jake!” he shouts in a quick look over behind him.

it startles you both, flinching out of the kiss. “jay you sai―” at your instant panic, jay is quick to shush you back into another kiss,”i know, i know. it really is tinted don't worry. they're just bluffing,” he reassures you, his mouth closing in on your top lip in a gentle suck.

“they're literally eating each other's face off! i told y'all they're probably together!” riki’s voice echoes into the parking lot, followed by jake's loud ass laugh. making both you and jay choke mid-kiss as you hop back into your seat and jay rushes out the car to keep their mouths shut.

“haven't y'all heard of privacy!” he scolds, his face hot red with embarrassment, words rolling off in a splutter.

𝖲𝖨𝖬 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖸𝖴𝖭

“jake anyone could walk in!” you slap his chest in a protest, leaning away as he tries to pull you into a kiss again and again. ‘just a kiss’ he insists, but with you straddling his lap, his thighs spread apart and your legs on either side of him― it's impossible. this is jake sim we are talking about; and this guy, from what you have come to know, will turn anything into a makeout session.

“it's my room, they won't just barge in. trust me,” he tucks away the strands of hair falling into your face, his eyes and his voice dripping with desperation; hands moving to trail all over you in attempts to persuade you.

and it works, it takes you just one moment of recollection: the last time you made out with him, same place, same way. and you give in. how could you even resist a guy like this? if you could have, you wouldn't have been in a freaking situationship with him out of all things in the world of romance.

your lips clash against each other, like you haven't kissed in ages. mouths literally devouring and sucking the life out of the heart and the breath out of the lungs. no words exchanged, only muffled sounds and soft gasps.

“fuck your lips are so soft,” jake mumbles between the kiss,”so kissable” unable to hold his thoughts to himself. so drunk, so gone; he doesn't notice heeseung walking in on you both.

not for a few seconds at least, only bothering to cast him a glance over your shoulder before closing his eyes again. leaving heeseung with his jaw slacked, dumbfounded and stunned all at the same time. he takes it as a cue to leave and let the others know not to disturb you both. the last thing he catches glimpse of being your wide eyes realizing he had come in.

“you said no one would walk in!” you immediately complain at the sound of the door creaking close behind heeseung.

“well,” jake sits slack against the headboard, not concerned in the slightest. the amount of care jake could give in a situation like this might as well be equivalent to a speck of dust in the oh mighty universe. but he loved the way your face flushed warm at having been caught.

“it's not like we were trying to hide this. i’m pretty sure everyone already knows how things are between us,” he shrugs, holding you close; eyes locked with yours in a sultry yet genuine gaze,“and how much more things could be.”

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖭

“never took you for this type,” sunghoon grins against your lips, breath hitting your cheeks warm and uneven. enjoying the way you seem to whine about not letting you kiss him; park sunghoon is a lot of things, but tease? tease is one that gives him life. it's not him, if he doesn't tease the fuck out of you before draining your life force with a kiss that's borderline psychotic.

and right now, with you perched atop the bathroom counter of jungwon's unit with the others right in the other room― sunghoon is exactly in the mood to get the situation heated. or to be more precise, to get caught.

“you were the one who kept teasing me in front of the others! i thought you wanted to― well, isn't this what you wanted too?” you grab his collar to keep him from leaning away, grazing your lips over his to tempt him. he isn't your man yet, but you absolutely know how to have him give in.

“i do, i want it.” his hands roam across the expanse of your back, dropping down to your thighs and tugging you forward. head tilting and leaning in to capture you in a kiss. park sunghoon is a tease, definitely; but he's also whipped.

so much so, he can't resist you even with all his self control working paid overtime.

it doesn't take long for the others to notice your absence, jungwon in particular running around to find you two for dinner. looking everywhere until he hears the shuffling inside the bathroom. he knocks once. twice. and when there's no response he turns the knob finding the door unlocked (that was sunghoon!!!).

“oh my god,” jungwon's exasperates, mood turning sour with embarrassment. your eyes shoot open at his voice, instantly trying to push sunghoon away but damn this guy keeps coming back each time and pulling you into the kiss again.

his ears burning red and the veins in his neck popping out yet he still wouldn't stop. he just can't, he physical can't.

“right in my bathroom? really? and you still going?” the screws in jungwon's brain rust out at he watches the scene unfold. “so sorry, jungwon,” you manage to mumble out, hitting against sunghoon’s chest in a warning.

it only makes him trail the kisses down your jaw and along the curve of your neck, burying his face into the crook in an attempt to keep smooching you in any way he can.

“he's really sorry i swear!” you yell out between the kisses, right before jungwon closes the door.

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖶𝖮𝖮

“sunoo,” you mumble in a soft whine, eyes trained on him while he works out. jealous of the dumbbells in his hand, seemingly stealing his attention off of you. his hum of response is affectionate, staring back at you in a ‘what is it?’ look.

“sunoo,” you whine again, louder this time. unable to just watch him when all you wanted was to kiss the life out of his lips. he stops mid-set, placing the weights back in their spot and walks over to where you sit at his desk. just sit and look pretty for me; god you'd do that so well.

he leans over you, hands resting on either side of the chair,”what is it that you want baby?” oh how much you loved this side of him. the side of him that made you believe this was more than it was.

your arms reach out to hook around his neck, pulling yourself up and pushing him against the edge of the desk in a desperate effort to kiss. lips pressing into his in a brief peck at first,”wanna kiss you.”

“jungwon and jake are right outside,” he warns, though not attempting to stop you at all. not even thinking of it. sitting against the edge, letting you pepper as many kisses as you want. “don't you want to kiss me?” you mutter out between the little smooches, twisting sunoo's heart with the tone of disappointment lacing your words and the loss of your touch following it.

“of course i want to baby. i always do,” his voice is low and full of yearning, the burning itch, the craze to be close again. as close as possible. his lips hovering over yours as he pulls you back against him, straight into a kiss. eyes half closed staring down at each other's mouth, parted and quite literally nibbling and sucking, far from gentle or friendly― at all in that sense.

the scent of your shampoo and the taste of your familiar lipbalm is dizzying, and sunoo wonders how he ever managed to just be a friend at one point―

“can't believe i thought you were just friends,” jake barges in, in a hurry, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you both. making sunoo pull away immediately, breathless and sweaty as he responds as casually as he can,”did you need something?” as if he wasn't just about to shove his tongue down your throat.

“um.. yeah―” you yank sunoo back, planting sloppy kisses on his lips and jake’s words die down in a feeble whisper,”i forgot..”

“baby― i mean y/n, wait―” if sunoo wasn't embarrassed enough earlier, he definitely was beyond humanely possible right now, trying to keep you off of him while jake watched and ultimately left with a shake of his head.

𝖸𝖠𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖶𝖮𝖭

the silence in the air feels thick, stuffed full of tension. and it seems to get hotter by each passing second. your argument with jungwon hanging aloof within a myriad of questions unanswered; what are we? are we even supposed to argue like this? are we supposed to feel like this? jealous, possessive and clinging on to the ache that came along with this undefined relationship.

“i know i said i didn't want anything serious,” jungwon's voice pierces through the soft running of the tapwater behind you, shaky and choked with desire.

“but i get this rush, whenever i’m with you. it's― it's like this high i keep chasing,” he breaths out, taking slow steps towards you. cornering your figure against the kitchen counter, his head hanging low over your shoulder.

lust: one of the seven deadly sins. desire: fickle, and love: hoax and ever changing. he knew it all, so he had always made sure to just have his share of fun and leave it all behind but it was strange how badly you made him want so much more. things he never thought he would ever want. in a way that he was aware would probably destroy him.

“and i know it's not healthy, i know. but i just can't stop―” he lifts his head in the slightest, tilting it towards your lips, grazing and brushing against your own as if he wanted to stretch the moment out,”really can't stop myself,” a longing whisper trickling out his pandora’s box. a yearn for you, so deep he utterly and irrevocably can not defy.

the kiss that follows, starts off soft and gentle like a declaration of love. slowly weaving into one of hunger and craving, impulsive with the need to covet everything down to your core. to start where you end and end where you start. yang jungwon felt absolute badshit crazy.

this wasn't what he had in mind when he proposed the idea to sleep around a few times.

his lips move atop yours in a frenzy, hands grabbing anywhere and everywhere to keep you close. tongue brushing against your parted lips in a tease,”tell me you want me like that too,” he begs into your mouth.

“the water's runn―” clank. before you can answer him, breathless and glazed with need alike, sunoo’s loud ass voice breaks through the moment, followed by his plate of chocolate mousse crashing into the marble tiles.

“i did not see anything! i absolutely did not see y'all about to get it on right in the middle of the kitchen!” sunoo disappears out immediately. leaving you and jungwon panting and flushed with embarassment. your fogged up brains clearing up after the sudden interruption.

“i― your lips are swollen― um, do you want some mousse?” jungwon stammers, retreating away from you.

𝖭𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖬𝖴𝖱𝖠 𝖱𝖨𝖪𝖨

“you're crazy,” you whisper out, glancing around at the empty hallway. feeling the heat emanating off of riki's body as he stands dangerously close to you.

“you're the crazy one,” his chuckle echoes off the walls sending you into a hoard of panic. your hands slapping against his chest to push him away as quick as you can.

hatred, rivalry, and contempt had shaped the idea of your relationship with him for years. so much hostility and so much of ignorance. riki and you were like yin and yang, total opposites and unable to see one ground. ever. but things changed over a shared summer internship and you were not yet ready to accept or admit it. not to yourself or others. god forbid the others found out you didn't puke at the sight of riki.

and being possibly caught kissing him? over your dead body.

“just close your eyes,” riki takes off his beanie and puts it on your head, briskly pulling it down: over your eyes. and before you can utter a word of objection, he is cupping your face and squishing your cheeks― lips meeting your puckered ones in a messy kiss.

you melt into it immediately, ears tuning out and body relaxing. albeit the beating of your hearts seemed to sync over, loud and hard. hands trembling in the slightest, breath speeding up and skin growing warm. it felt like a rippling wave of cold water on a hot shore, the worry of being caught suddenly striking as something insignificant.

“i thought y'all hated each other's guts?” sunghoon’s sudden intrusion whacks the gears in your system. the two of you pulling away like, like poles repeling each other.

“we do!” “we don't!” you and riki call out at the same time, confusing the heck out of sunghoon. “okay.. so y'all are in kissing stage right now, that's cute.” he laughs regardless of the variance between your answers. giving you both a suggestive look before he leaves.

you push up the beanie, peeking from underneath, “you jerk! you did this on purpose didn't you! you wanted to be caught! i can't believe i fell fo―” but riki is not bothering with this now, not when he got what he wanted; a free pass to kiss you from now cause everyone would know of it probably by the end of the day.

“just shut up and kiss me,” he pulls the beanie back over your eyes and lunges forward, diving right into another kiss without wasting any more time. oh you felt like he shot you dead. with the cupid's arrow of course.

taglist 。open! @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp

[classyrbf]

SHE'S A SUCCUBUS! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...as a sex demon, she can always sense the horny virgin boy who’s dying to lose his virginity

INFO...choso x succubus!reader, sub!choso, virgin!choso, somnophilia, riding, overstim, creampie, oral (m!receiving and f!receiving), slight ass eating, cum eating, doggy, squirting, choso is super needy and eager, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Choso always felt left out when his friend would constantly talk about all the girls they’ve been with, all the experiences they had and what crazy shit they always got into. He’d just sit there, silent. He couldn’t relate to them not one bit. The closest he’s ever to having sex is his right hand or a sex toy. No girl ever looked his way, and his confidence was crushed. They’d only go after his friends, practically drooling over them. Not one of them spared a glance towards Choso.

He was begging to lose his virginity, dying to know what real pussy felt like, how soft tits felt in his hands or even some ass. God, don’t even get him started on wondering what it feels like to receive head. His friends swear it’s the best thing ever as long as the girl knows what she’s doing. He always watches porn, the women on their knees, slobbering all over the man dick like it was some divine dessert. He loved watching the way their pussies wrapped around the mans dick, just imagining how wet and warm it is. He was a lost cause. At this point, he was ready to pay someone to take his virginity. Literally.

And just like any other night, he goes back home, ready to fuck his fist to another average porn video before dozing off to sleep. He’s been extremely horny lately, more than usual and he can’t understand why. Not to mention the wet dreams he’s been having, waking up to cum in his pants like he’s a damn teenager. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, feeling the need to cum more and more everyday.

Hours later, he’s fast asleep, tossing and turning as he has another wet dream of someone riding him. He can’t make out her face, but it feels so damn real. Everything does. Even her moans and the weight on top of him. “Mmm,” he hums. His brows furrow. He can even hear the sound of skin on skin. His entire body feels like it’s on fire right now, like he’s been hit with some sort of sex pollen. It’s more intense than ever.

Little does he know it’s not a wet dream, no, it’s you. The succubus who’s been watching him for weeks, feeling his urgency to cum, to lose his virginity. He’s summoned you without even realizing. And now you were riding him, gliding your wet pussy up and down his aching cock while he slept, waiting for the moment he wakes up and realizes he’s no longer a virgin. He twists and turns when you run your clawed nails down his pale skin, smiling at the way he moans and whimpers in his sleep.

Choso couldn’t take this overwhelming feeling anymore, forcing himself to wake up, prying his tired eyes open. But the feeling doesn’t stop. The sounds don’t stop. And certainly the woman is his dreams doesnt disappear when he opens his eyes. “Wha—ah—what? Who…? Oh fuck!” He rasps, eyes darting around the room and over your naked body. “What the fuck? Oh my goddd.” As confused and scared as he is right now, he can’t escape the pleasure coursing through him right now.

“Shhh, shhh, just let me make you feel good. You’ve been dying for this haven’t you? I’m here to give you exactly what you want.” You slightly lean back, spreading your legs to let him get a clear view of the way your pussy sucks his cock in.

He looks at you with awe and confusion, but he can’t help but give in, moaning so sweetly when you fully sink down. “Who…who are you?” He gasps, eyes widen when you clench your pussy around him.

“I know when cute virgins like you wanna lose their virginity. You summoned me, accidentally. You’ve been so worked up lately, huh? Well,” you smile, “that was because of me.” His cock twitches inside of you, your hips bouncing faster and harder, watching the way he mouth falls open.

“Fuck, fuck! It’s feels so good,” he heaves, breathing heavily. His cheeks dusted a light pink. “I don’t wanna cum just yet, please slow down. Please, please—nnghhh, fuckkkk.” Choso didn’t stand a chance, shooting sticky ropes of cum into your pussy, his entire body quivering with how intense his orgasm was. “Please, slow down—ah, oh my god. It feels too good—” His eyes rolled into the back of his head as you kept fucking him.

“I’ll keep fucking you till there’s nothing left.” You lean forward, pressing your chest against his, placing your lips on his while you kiss him with such fervor, with such sloppiness. His hands reach down, gripping the plush flesh of your ass. He swears he’s in heaven right now. This can’t be real. No way a sex demon was taking his virginity right now. His dick was so sensitive, but still so hard. He knew he had so much cum left, the only thoughts he had were to fill you up over and over until it was dripping out.

He felt like he was losing his mind, fucking him so hard, creating a sloppy mess where you two met just so you can get him to cum again. Your devilish yet sweet giggles send chills up his spine and straight down to his already throbbing dick. With labored breaths, and his heart rattling against his rib cage, he already knows he’s going to cum again. So soon. “Come don’t hold back on me. I want it all,” you growl in his ear. “I’ll do whatever it takes to empty you dry and fuck you stupid.”

His trembling fingers grip onto your ass harder as he cries out, broken moans swallowed by your kisses and he can’t help but cum again, filling up your tight pussy to the brim. You pull away from the heated kiss looking at the way his hazy eyes stare up at you with such desperation. You halt the movement of your hips and get up from his lap. “No, no, wait. Where are you going?! Please, keep fucking me.” He sits up, watching you get on your knees. Poor thing looks like he’s almost about to cry.

And now he can get a real good view of you. The tail that swayed around and the small little horns that pointed from the top of your head. You really were a sex demon. Your hand took a firm grip on his throbbing cock, his tip leaking like it was begging you to make it cum again. “I can see your thoughts. Your nasty little thoughts.” You run a long stripe from his balls all the way to his tip, licking the excess cum off. Your tongue was freakishly long, but god did it feel so good on him. You spit on his cock, massaging it in as you stroke him, moving your hand in circular motions that make his hips jump. “Say it. I know what you’re thinking.” Your lips curl into a smirk, running the pad of your thumb over his slit.

“Put…put your mouth on it, please,” he says barely above a whisper, too shocked to even form proper words.

“Louder.” You massage his balls with your free hand, earning a guttural groan from him.

“Please, put your mouth on it! Fuck, I wanna know how good it feels!” His lip quivers, his breathing quickening the closer your lips get.

“Good boy.” You smile, darting your tongue out and wrapping it around the base of his cock, swirling it around the head before you take him in your mouth. You stare at him through thick lashes, bobbing your head up and down his thick shaft, spit spilling from the corners of your mouth. Glug, glug, glug.

The sound of you choking on his dick was like music to his hears, taking his all the way down your throat with no problem. How is he supposed to keep up? His brain is fried and his body already feels so weak from cumming two times in a row. But he can’t stop. It’s like you’ve put some kind of spell on him to make him want more. “Shit, I’m all the way in,” he gasps, fall back onto the pillows. You pull him out of your throat, string of saliva connect from your lips to his cock as you continue stroking him. You were so messy, so nasty, but he loved it so fucking much because this is always how he’d picture it.

You spit back on his cock before taking him down your throat again without warning. “Oh my—fuck me, I’m gonna fucking cum again!” He whimpers. His body jolts and his abs tense up at the sensation, pleasure shooting through his body like electricity. He’s so sensitive he can’t help it. His hips buck up into your mouth and next thing he knows, he’s cumming down your throat. “Nnngh shit!” He groans, each orgasm more intense than the last. It’s like as time goes on, he can’t help but get more horny, more greedy.

Within seconds he’s pulling you off his dick on bending you over, pulling your ass in the air. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop, I can’t stop, I can’t,” he’s muttering to himself, sweat dripping down his body. He pushes every inch into you with such ease, like your pussy was made for him. “Feels so good, feels so good I can’t stop stop,” he cries, rummaging his hips into you, fucking hard and fast.

“You’re learning so quickly.” You smile from below him, pushing your ass back against his hips. He watches the way your ass bounces back on his dick and he becomes mesmerized. “That’s it! Fuck me harder. Show me how badly you wanna cum in my pussy again,” you giggle.

Choso pushes your head into the mattress, broken moans falling from his lips. “I need it so badly, so fucking badly.” Your pussy grips him like a vice and he hisses at the tempting feeling.

“Make me squirt all over your cock! Come on, fuck me like you mean it!” You grip the sheets below you, feeling his swollen head press against your sweet spot over and over with each grueling thrust. Upon hearing your words, Choso remembers all those videos he’s watching of girls squirting, and to make you squirt just because of him makes his brain fuzzy. He keeps the same pace, huffing and panting when your pussy grows tighter. “Yes! Yes!” You laugh, sighing in relief when he pulls out and clear liquid shoots from your pussy, coating his cock and sheets.

His eyebrows raise in amazement. “Holy fuck,” he watches the way your pussy leaks before urgently ramming his cock back inside of you. “Do it again. Squirt all over me again! Please! It’s so fucking hot!” He begs as he pounds your pussy like his life depends on it. “Wanna watch you—nnngh—squirt again!”

As if on cue, your pushy gushes around him again, soaking his thighs and his cock and just the sight of it makes him cum so hard he’s toppling over you. “Fuck! I’m cumming!” He thrusts deep inside of you, making sure not to waste even a drop. “Yes, yes!” He huffs, bucking his hips. “I need to taste you, need to fucking—mmm.” He drops to his knees, pulling your ass back against his face while his tongue slurps every drop his cum and your juices, licking through your sloppy folds and sucking on your clit.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? Such a good, good boy.” You praise, reaching behind you, taking a fistful of his hair and pushing his face deeper into your cunt. His moans at your taste, his free hand reaching down to stroke his swollen and sensitive cock. He moves his tongue up and down, running back and forth between your clit and your ass, and back down to your hole. You quickly pull him away before sitting up.

“Did I do something wrong? Why’d you stop?” He looks at with sad eyes.

“You’re done.” You look down at his cock.

“No, no, I’m not. I promise I still have more. Just keep fucking me, let me eat your pussy or something! Don’t leave!” He pouts, watching you crawl towards him.

“As much as I’d like to keep playing with you, you’re all out of cum, pretty boy.” You smirk. “I’ve got other desperate virgins like you to attend to.” You ghost your lips over his and Choso leans in for a kiss but you pull back from him. “You’re welcome.”

You disappear into a dark corner in his room, like you faded away into it. He runs to turn on his light and sees you���re completely gone. He’s at a loss for words, standing in the middle of his room completely naked. He looks towards his bed, seeing the wet spots you had left. So it was real? No? Yes? He didn’t know what to believe. He accidentally summoned a sex demon to take his virginity. If only he could do it again.

[sunrenity]

⟡ㅤㅤCOMPASSㅤ┈─ㅤ엔하이픈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ( 🎞 )ㅤㅤi might get lost without you

precis : you're their compass.

엔하이픈ㅤ୨୧ㅤenhypen x 𝒻em readerㅤ..ㅤest relationship, tooth-rotting fluffㅤ/ㅤidol au! for heeseung, 600-700 words per memberㅤㅤ( 4883 )

zehra's note.ㅤmight be in my thenbhd era

LEE HEESEUNG

the world was always loud around lee heeseung. the chaos of his daily life—practices, interviews, schedules—felt like a hurricane he could never quite escape. yet somehow, in the midst of it all, you were his constant.

heeseung always said you were like his north star.

“it’s cheesy,” he’d chuckle, running a hand through his hair as you sat across from him in your tiny favorite café. his face would light up in the way it always did when he teased you, dimples pressing deep into his cheeks. “but i mean it. without you, i’d just... drift.”

today was no different. you were seated together at a secluded corner table, the kind he requested specifically so no one would recognize him. a cup of steaming caramel latte sat untouched between his hands, growing colder by the second as he focused entirely on you. his gaze was warm, dark eyes soft as they traced your every move.

“you’re staring again, heeseung,” you teased, peering over the rim of your cup.

“can’t help it,” he admitted easily, leaning closer. his elbows rested on the table as his face inched toward yours, the faintest scent of his cologne lingering in the air. “you’re the only thing that makes sense these days.”

the weight of his words hung heavy between you, but not uncomfortably so. you knew what he meant, even if he wasn’t saying it outright. he didn’t need to. heeseung had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. every stolen glance, every gentle touch, every unspoken smile—it all told you the same story.

he needed you.

and it wasn’t in the dramatic, overbearing way some might imagine. heeseung wasn’t looking for someone to fix him or carry his burdens. he just needed you to remind him that amidst the chaos, there was still something real. something steady. something that felt like home.

“i think you give me too much credit,” you murmured, setting your drink down and meeting his gaze head-on.

“not possible,” he countered without missing a beat. “you’re the reason i know which way to go, even when i feel lost. like that time—”

he paused, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“what?” you prompted, leaning in slightly.

“remember the night before the showcase? when i was freaking out about forgetting the choreography?”

you nodded, vividly recalling the way he had paced back and forth in his living room, muttering steps under his breath until his voice cracked from exhaustion.

“you didn’t even flinch,” he continued, the fondness in his tone evident. “you just sat there, listening, and then dragged me out for ice cream at 2 a.m. like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

you laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “you needed to get out of your own head. that’s all.”

heeseung shook his head, his smile widening. “no, i needed you.”

it wasn’t the first time he’d said it, and you doubted it would be the last. but every time he did, it felt like a little thread tying you closer to him, weaving your lives together in a way that felt impossible to undo.

“you know,” he said after a moment, reaching across the table to brush his fingers against yours, “i don’t tell you enough how much i appreciate you.”

your breath hitched slightly at the tenderness in his voice. it was rare for heeseung to let his walls down completely, but when he did, it always felt like a privilege to witness.

“you don’t have to,” you replied, curling your fingers around his. “i already know.”

he smiled then, the kind of smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

in that moment, you realized that being his compass didn’t mean guiding him to a destination. it meant being the place he could return to, no matter how far he wandered. and as his fingers tightened around yours, you knew you’d be that for him—always.

PARK JONGSEONG

it was almost comical how park jay always seemed to know what he was doing. he was the kind of person who made the world look effortless, like he had it all figured out. from his perfectly timed jokes to the confident way he carried himself, people assumed he never faltered. but you knew better. 

beneath the cool exterior, jay was just as lost as anyone else. maybe even more so. 

he’d told you that once, late one autumn night as the two of you sat on the hood of his car. the air was crisp, tinged with the earthy smell of fallen leaves, and the sky stretched endlessly above you, scattered with stars. jay’s jacket was draped over your shoulders, warm and slightly oversized, while he leaned back, one leg propped up on the bumper and the other dangling lazily. 

“i don’t know where i’m going half the time,” he admitted, his voice low and quiet, like the confession wasn’t meant to reach anyone but you. 

you turned to him then, his profile illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlight. his expression was unreadable, but you saw the vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he rarely let anyone see. 

“you always seem like you do,” you said softly. 

he chuckled, the sound dry and humorless. “that’s the trick, isn’t it? make it look like you’ve got it all together so no one bothers asking questions.” 

it was such a jay thing to say, and yet it broke your heart a little. because while everyone else saw the polished version of him, you saw the cracks. the uncertainty. the quiet ache of someone who was searching for something he couldn’t quite name. 

“you don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

he glanced at you then, his dark eyes locking onto yours like he was searching for something. and maybe he found it, because his shoulders relaxed just a little, and the corners of his mouth lifted in the faintest hint of a smile. 

“that’s why i need you,” he said simply. 

the words settled between you, heavy with meaning. you didn’t respond right away, unsure of how to articulate the warmth spreading through your chest. jay wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean, and you knew this was as close to a confession as he’d ever get. 

“where are we going tonight?” you asked instead, breaking the silence. 

he smiled then, a real one this time, and it was the kind of smile that made you feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. 

“does it matter?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you. 

you shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. “no, i guess it doesn’t.” 

and it was true. being with jay always felt like enough, no matter where you ended up. whether it was on an aimless drive through the city, sprawled out on the living room floor listening to records, or sitting in comfortable silence as the world moved on around you—he made every moment feel significant. 

maybe that’s why he called you his compass. not because you showed him where to go, but because you reminded him that the destination didn’t matter as long as he had you by his side. 

“you know,” he said suddenly, breaking your train of thought, “i think you’re the only person who gets me.” 

you turned to him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “that’s not true.” 

“it is,” he insisted, his gaze unwavering. “no one else makes me feel... grounded. like i’m not just floating around, waiting for something to happen.” 

there it was again—that honesty he reserved only for you. it was overwhelming at times, the way he opened up to you so completely, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“i’m glad i can be that for you,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady. 

he reached for your hand then, his fingers warm against yours despite the cool night air. his touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid you might pull away.

but you didn’t.

instead, you held on tighter, letting him know without words that you weren’t going anywhere. 

because if jay was lost, you’d be his guide. and if he ever doubted where he belonged, you’d remind him. 

you were his compass, after all. and he was your home.

SIM JAEYUN

jake was always moving. whether it was the way he gestured enthusiastically as he spoke or how he could never stay in one place for too long, there was a restless energy to him that you couldn’t help but admire. he was a whirlwind of spontaneity, someone who craved adventure and thrived on the unknown. 

but even whirlwinds need somewhere to land. 

jake often joked that you were his anchor. 

“if i didn’t have you, i’d probably end up in the middle of nowhere without a clue how i got there,” he’d say, laughing as he tossed his arm around your shoulders. the way he looked at you, though, made you think there was more truth to it than he let on. 

today was one of those rare moments when jake wasn’t moving. you sat together at the edge of a quiet lake, its surface rippling gently in the breeze. the sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the water and painting the world in warm, honeyed hues. 

jake leaned back on his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him as he gazed at the horizon. his golden-brown hair glinted in the light, messy from the wind, and his lips curved into a soft smile as he turned to you. 

“do you ever feel like you’re not sure where you’re going?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual. 

you glanced at him, caught off guard by the question. jake was usually so sure of himself, so carefree. but in that moment, there was a vulnerability in his expression that made your heart ache. 

“sometimes,” you admitted, pulling your knees to your chest. “but i think that’s normal.” 

he nodded, his gaze drifting back to the water. “it’s just... sometimes it feels like no matter how far i go or how many places i see, i’m still looking for something i can’t find.” 

there was a pause, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but filled with unspoken thoughts. 

“and when you’re with me?” you asked softly. 

jake’s head snapped toward you, his eyes widening slightly as if he hadn’t expected the question. but then his expression softened, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips. 

“when i’m with you,” he said, his voice steady, “it feels like i’ve already found it.” 

your breath caught at the sincerity in his tone. jake had always been charming, always quick with a joke or a playful comment, but this was different. this was real. 

“jake...” 

he sat up then, leaning closer until his face was mere inches from yours. his dark eyes searched yours, warm and steady despite the uncertainty he’d just confessed. 

“you’re the only thing that makes sense,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “even when everything else feels... chaotic.” 

it wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, but it was the first time it felt so raw, so open. jake wasn’t one to dwell on heavy emotions, but when it came to you, he never held back. 

“maybe that’s because you’re always running,” you teased gently, trying to lighten the mood. “you don’t give yourself time to just be.” 

jake chuckled, the sound soft and warm. “maybe. but if i stopped running, i wouldn’t have found you.” 

the weight of his words settled over you, wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket. jake had a way of saying things that made you feel like the most important person in the world, like you were the reason the stars hung in the sky. 

“besides,” he added, a playful glint returning to his eyes, “you’re the one who keeps me on track. my compass, remember?” 

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “you’re ridiculous.” 

“ridiculously lucky,” he shot back, leaning in to nudge your shoulder with his. 

you laughed, the sound echoing across the lake, and jake’s smile widened in response. in that moment, it didn’t matter where he was going or what he was searching for. all that mattered was that he was here, with you, and for once, the restlessness inside him had quieted. 

because with you, jake didn’t feel lost. he felt found.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon wasn’t someone who expressed himself easily. words didn’t come naturally to him, at least not the kind that bared his heart. but you’d always known how to read between the lines, to find meaning in the silences where others might see emptiness. 

he said it once, offhandedly, that you were like his compass. 

“i just... think better when you’re around,” he’d muttered, his voice quiet as his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. his cheeks had turned a faint pink as he avoided your eyes, but the admission lingered, warm and sweet. 

now, standing at the edge of a frozen lake, you watched sunghoon skate effortlessly across the ice. he moved like the winter wind—graceful, sure, yet untouchable. the early evening light glinted off the smooth surface, painting his figure in soft shades of gold and blue. 

you stood bundled in your coat and scarf, shivering slightly as you watched him circle back toward you. he stopped a few feet away, the blades of his skates slicing cleanly into the ice, sending a spray of frost into the air. 

“cold?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with concern. 

“a little,” you admitted, smiling as you rubbed your gloved hands together. “but it’s worth it to see you like this. you’re amazing out there.” 

his gaze flickered down, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of a smile on his lips. sunghoon wasn’t one for grand reactions, but you’d learned to notice the small ones—the way his shoulders relaxed when you complimented him, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you. 

“come here,” he said, holding out his hand. 

you hesitated, glancing at your boots. “i’m not exactly a skating prodigy like you, sunghoon. i’ll probably fall on my face.” 

his lips twitched upward, the faintest ghost of a smile. “i won’t let you.” 

something about the quiet confidence in his voice made you believe him. tentatively, you reached for his hand, and he pulled you gently onto the ice. his touch was firm but careful, as if he were afraid of hurting you. 

“just relax,” he said, his other hand coming to rest lightly on your waist. “i’ve got you.” 

and he did. as he guided you across the ice, his movements slow and deliberate, you felt the tension in your body melt away. the world around you faded, leaving only the quiet sound of skates gliding and the warmth of his hands steadying you. 

“you make this look so easy,” you said, glancing up at him. 

“it’s not as hard as it looks,” he replied, his tone calm. “you just have to trust yourself.” 

you raised an eyebrow. “is that what you do?” 

his lips curved slightly, a soft laugh escaping him. “sometimes.” 

the honesty in his voice surprised you. sunghoon rarely admitted to uncertainty—it wasn’t his style. but in moments like this, when it was just the two of you, he let his guard down in a way that made your heart ache. 

“hey,” you said gently, squeezing his hand. “you don’t have to have it all figured out, you know.” 

he looked at you then, his dark eyes meeting yours. for a moment, it felt like the whole world had gone still. 

“you make it easier,” he said softly. 

the words were simple, but the weight behind them wasn’t lost on you. sunghoon wasn’t someone who spoke in grand declarations or flowery phrases, but when he said something, he meant it. 

“you’re my compass,” he added after a pause, his voice quieter now. “even when i don’t know where i’m going, i know i’ll be okay as long as you’re with me.” 

your chest tightened at the raw vulnerability in his words. this was the sunghoon only you got to see—the boy who felt deeply but struggled to express it, who showed his love in actions rather than words. 

“i’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice steady. “i promise.” 

his lips twitched again, and this time the smile reached his eyes. it was small, almost shy, but it was real. 

“good,” he said, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. 

together, you continued to glide across the ice, his hand never leaving yours. and in that moment, it didn’t matter where the world took him or how lost he might feel at times. because no matter what, you’d be there to guide him. 

just as he always guided you.

KIM SUNOO

sunoo had a way of brightening every space he entered. it wasn’t just the brilliance of his smile or the warmth in his eyes—it was something deeper, something unexplainable. he carried an energy that made you feel like, no matter how lost you were, everything was going to be okay. 

but even someone like sunoo had his shadows. 

the two of you walked side by side along a winding path in the park, the world around you cloaked in a soft, rolling fog. the trees loomed like quiet sentinels, their skeletal branches weaving into the pale gray sky. your breath puffed out in faint clouds, mingling with the damp air, and the faint crunch of leaves beneath your boots was the only sound breaking the silence. 

sunoo was quiet today. 

it wasn’t like him. normally, he’d fill the space with chatter—little stories about his day, playful teasing, or random observations that made you laugh. but now, his hands were shoved into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. 

“sunoo?” you said softly, glancing at him. 

he hummed in acknowledgment, but he didn’t meet your gaze. 

“is everything okay?” 

for a moment, he didn’t answer. the fog seemed to press in closer, the world shrinking around you. then he sighed, the sound soft and almost hesitant. 

“do you ever feel like... like you’re not enough?” he asked, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. 

the question hit you like a sudden gust of wind, unexpected and disorienting. sunoo—the boy who radiated confidence and joy—felt this way? 

“sunoo,” you said gently, stopping in your tracks. he paused too, turning to face you with a tentative look in his eyes. 

“you’re more than enough,” you said firmly. 

he blinked, surprised by the conviction in your voice. “you don’t understand,” he murmured, looking away. “sometimes, it feels like no matter how hard i try, i’m always falling short. like... like i’m just faking it, and one day, everyone’s going to realize.” 

his words trailed off, and you saw the vulnerability etched into his expression. it broke your heart to see him like this, so uncertain, so fragile. 

“you’re not faking it,” you said, stepping closer. “you’re incredible, sunoo. you’re kind and thoughtful, and you make people feel seen and loved in a way no one else can.” 

he opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. 

“and even when you’re feeling like this—when you’re doubting yourself—you’re still enough. more than enough.” 

sunoo stared at you, his eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. then, slowly, a small, almost hesitant smile broke across his face. 

“you always know what to say,” he said softly. 

you shook your head, returning his smile. “it’s not about knowing what to say. i just know you. and i know how special you are, even if you don’t see it right now.” 

the fog around you seemed to lighten, the world growing a little brighter. sunoo’s smile grew, and this time, it reached his eyes, chasing away the lingering shadows. 

“thank you,” he said quietly. 

“you don’t have to thank me,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. “just... let me remind you whenever you forget, okay?” 

he nodded, squeezing your hand gently. “okay.” 

the two of you started walking again, the path ahead still shrouded in mist but somehow feeling less daunting. sunoo’s hand stayed in yours, his grip warm and steady. 

you were his compass, even if he didn’t realize it. and just like he lit up the world for everyone else, you’d be the light that guided him through his darkest moments. 

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon was a quiet storm. he wasn’t loud or overly expressive, but everything about him carried a subtle intensity—a calm, steady rhythm that grounded you when the world felt chaotic. 

you often thought of him as the anchor that kept you steady. but if you asked him, he’d say the same about you. 

it was a rare rainy afternoon, the kind where the sky was more silver than gray, and the soft patter of raindrops created a soothing melody against the windows. the two of you sat on the floor of his small living room, a blanket draped over your shoulders as you shared the space in easy silence. the warm glow of a single lamp painted everything in soft hues, turning the mundane into something quietly magical. 

jungwon sat across from you, his legs crossed and his fingers absently toying with the edge of the blanket you shared. his dark hair was slightly mussed, and his sweater looked a size too big, the sleeves brushing his knuckles as he moved. 

“what are you thinking about?” you asked, breaking the silence. 

his gaze flickered up to meet yours, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smile. “you always ask me that.” 

“because you always look like you’re lost in thought,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your foot. 

he chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, like the first sip of hot tea on a cold day. “maybe i just like thinking when i’m with you.” 

the casual sincerity of his words made your breath catch. that was the thing about jungwon—he didn’t need grand gestures or flowery words to make you feel special. he did it in the little things, the quiet moments. 

“what about right now?” you pressed gently. “what are you thinking about right now?” 

he hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands. for a moment, you thought he might deflect, but then he surprised you. 

“i was thinking about how... steady everything feels when you’re here,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “like, no matter what’s going on, i know i’ll be okay if i’m with you.” 

your heart swelled at his confession, and you leaned forward, resting your chin on your knees as you watched him. “jungwon...” 

he glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “you’re my compass,” he continued, his voice steadier now. “you remind me where i’m supposed to be, even when i start to lose track of myself.” 

the honesty in his words left you momentarily speechless. jungwon wasn’t the type to bare his emotions so openly, but when he did, it was with a quiet strength that left no room for doubt. 

“you’re where you’re supposed to be,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “and you’re doing just fine, jungwon. more than fine.” 

he exhaled a quiet laugh, his fingers tightening around yours. “i don’t always feel that way.” 

“that’s okay,” you said, squeezing his hand gently. “you don’t have to have it all figured out. that’s what i’m here for, remember?” 

his smile widened, and for a moment, the room felt warmer, brighter. jungwon had a way of making the simplest moments feel profound, as if the world slowed down just for the two of you. 

“thank you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. 

“for what?” you asked, tilting your head. 

“for being you,” he said simply. 

the rain continued to fall outside, its rhythm steady and soothing. and as you sat there, your hands entwined and the world quiet around you, you realized that jungwon wasn’t just your anchor—he was the steady rhythm you didn’t know you needed. 

and you? you were his compass, guiding him gently back to himself every time he lost his way.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki wasn’t one to say what he felt outright. his emotions weren’t something he wore on his sleeve, nor did he hand them out freely to the world. to most people, he was an enigma—a mix of sharp wit and quiet confidence, always keeping others at arm’s length. 

but not with you. 

you had a way of getting past his defenses, slipping through the cracks in his armor like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. you didn’t push or pry; you simply stayed, steady and unwavering, until he let you in. 

tonight, the two of you found yourselves at the edge of the city, sitting on the hood of his car with the skyline sprawled out below. the faint hum of distant traffic filled the cool night air, and the stars above blinked faintly against the darkness. 

riki leaned back on his elbows, his long legs stretched out before him. his dark hair fell loosely over his forehead, and the soft glow of the city lights painted his sharp features in shades of silver and gold. he was quiet tonight, his usual playful banter replaced by a contemplative stillness. 

“you’ve been quiet,” you remarked, glancing over at him. 

he smirked faintly, tilting his head to look at you. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“it’s not,” you replied, your lips curving into a small smile. “just unusual.” 

he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “guess i’ve got a lot on my mind.” 

you waited, giving him the space to continue if he wanted to. with riki, patience was key. he wasn’t someone who spilled his thoughts easily, but when he did, it was worth every second of the wait. 

“i’ve been thinking about us,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. 

the admission caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. “oh?” you said softly, your gaze locking onto his. 

he sat up then, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared out at the skyline. “i’ve always been good at figuring things out—what i want, where i’m going. but with you...” he trailed off, his brows furrowing slightly as he searched for the right words. 

“with me?” you prompted gently. 

“with you, it’s different,” he said, turning to meet your eyes. “you make me feel... anchored. like no matter where i’m going, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re there.” 

the vulnerability in his voice sent a wave of warmth through you. riki wasn’t someone who opened up easily, and hearing him say those words felt like he was handing you a piece of his heart. 

“you know,” you began, a soft smile tugging at your lips, “you’re not as hard to figure out as you think.” 

he raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “oh, really?” 

“really,” you said, leaning slightly closer. “you act all cool and aloof, but deep down, you care more than you let on. you just don’t like showing it.” 

his smirk widened, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “you think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?” 

“pretty much,” you teased, your smile growing. 

he shook his head, but the amusement in his expression was unmistakable. “you’re something else, you know that?” 

“i’ll take that as a compliment,” you quipped, your tone light. 

“it is,” he said quietly, his voice taking on a more serious note. “you make me... better. i don’t know how else to say it, but you do. you’re like my compass or something. you remind me where i’m supposed to be, even when i lose sight of it myself.” 

the sincerity in his words made your chest tighten. for all his teasing and confidence, riki had a depth to him that he didn’t show to just anyone. but here, under the vast expanse of the night sky, he was letting you see it. 

“you’re not as lost as you think you are,” you said softly, your gaze steady. “but i’ll always be here, just in case you need reminding.” 

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. then, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before entwining them together. his grip was firm, steady, but there was a gentleness to it that made your heart flutter. 

“good,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “because i don’t think i ever want to figure things out without you.” 

the city lights continued to shimmer in the distance, the hum of the world fading into the background. and as the two of you sat there, hand in hand, it was clear that neither of you needed a map or a plan. 

because wherever you went, you’d always be his true north.

[66stitches]

dating abby headcanons

Art by fjorgust on instagram

Daily click - Palestine masterpost - TLOU and israel

divider creds

꩜ She isn’t super big on pda, but does little stuff like grab your hand or give you occasional kisses on the forehead just to remind you of how she loves you (and to let everyone know you’re hers).

꩜ With that being said, she’s all over you once you’re home.

꩜ Absolutely loves lazy morning cuddles and kisses far more than she’d like to admit.

꩜ I just know she listens to dad music. Definitely a big fan of The Offspring.

꩜ Loves to spoil her girl, but even though she doesn’t admit it, she secretly loves being spoiled and coddled as well.

꩜ Has a pretty high pain tolerance, but would sometimes exaggerate her pain just so you’d coddle and baby her, especially when she’s on her period.

And you know she’s fibbing, but you knew that if you confronted her she would immediately deny it and get super defensive (which is how you know she’s lying).

But you love babying her, so you’re more than happy to play along.

꩜ She snores, but it’s pretty soft and light, so you don’t really mind at all. It’s actually pretty comforting.

꩜ Shares her coin collection with you. You don’t really get the fascination, but seeing her ramble on passionately about what new coins she found only makes you fall in love deeper.

꩜ Reads classics. A huge fan of Dostoevsky. But also she loves nonfictions.

꩜ Absolutely sucks at video games. If you play, she’ll ask if she can try, only to get your character killed like five seconds later then complain that “something’s up with your controller.”

꩜ Loves having her hair played with. She would have trouble sleeping sometimes, but once your fingers are on those golden strands of hers she’s out like a light, already softly snoring into the pillow.

꩜ Sleeps completely naked with you. Not for any sexual purpose, but just feeling her bare skin against yours as you’re sleeping makes her feel closer to you than ever. It’s an innocently intimate and loving moment she likes to share with you.

Honestly just imagine cuddling to sleep at night completely naked. Everything is quiet and you’re peppering sleepy kisses on each other’s face, neck, shoulders, and rubbing each other’s arms and back 'til you fall asleep oh god I’m SICK.

꩜ This woman is in love with sitcoms and I will not be elaborating any further.

꩜ Claims she doesn’t like cats, but once came home like an hour late because she got caught up playing with a stray cat. Refused to tell you the real reason why she was late.

꩜ Cracks the dumbest jokes you’ve ever heard that only put a smile on your face because of how stupid they are and how cute she is when she says them.

Remember that scene where she was trying to joke around with Lev but she’s just super bad at it and he didn’t even try to play along? “You know our dogs can play cards like that?” Yeah, she does that with you too.

꩜ Cries after arguments (canon) but can’t stand people seeing her cry. She’s a pretty emotional person methinks.

꩜ Loves festivities. Will go all out on christmas and halloween, decorating the entire place and buying gifts (pesters you with questions about what you got her).

꩜ Pesto. She loves it on everything.

꩜ Loves massages. Back, shoulders, feet, scalp. Loves them all and only wants them from you.

꩜ A caregiver. (If you’re on meds), she’ll always make sure you take them and take them at the right time. She ensures that you eat three meals a day and get enough sleep, and even doesn’t let you stay up for too long. She just wants her girl to stay healthy.

꩜ She’s a total book hoarder. She promises not to buy another book 'til she’s done reading the ones she has, only for you to find a paper bag with ten new books the next day.

꩜ Loves you endlessly and has your entire wedding planned out in her head. She knows exactly what songs she wants to play and how she wants your dresses to look.

[yourreddancer]

For the past decade, as Donald Trump has risen in political stature, I have waited for that precarious but inevitable moment when his well-documented liabilities would end his political ascendancy, when it would all finally be too much. I waited through scandalous allegations about affairs and payoffs, and misogynistic and violent talk about grabbing women. There were the sexual abuse allegations for which he was found liable in one instance, dozens of felony convictions and even more outstanding indictments, flagrantly racist statements and unrepentant xenophobia.

There have been so many occasions when I thought finally, we have reached the apex. Finally, he has revealed too much of what lies behind the mask. Finally, this country will stand up and draw an unbreachable line in the sand. Finally, Americans will say this is not who we are and actually mean it.

That time hasn’t come.

Mr. Trump’s election demonstrates how American tolerance for the unacceptable is nearly infinite. There are hundreds of absolutely mind-boggling things I could point to from the past decade — the suggestion of bleach injections to potentially treat the coronavirus and the wild QAnon conspiracy theories infecting millions of Americans, including politicians, and insulting veterans and making fun of the disabled. But three elections in a row, Mr. Trump has been a viable presidential candidate and our democracy has few guardrails to protect the country from the clear and present dangers he and his political appointees will continue to confer upon us.

Clearly, Mr. Trump is successful because of his faults, not despite them, because we do not live in a just world.

Toward the end of the 2024 election cycle, the candidates made their closing arguments. Kamala Harris articulated a hopeful vision, a way forward for a fractured country. She positioned herself as a moderate, a leader willing to work with her political opponents, one who embraces diversity and cares about the middle class and recognizes that many people are struggling in one way or another and want those struggles acknowledged. They want solutions for their problems, and Ms. Harris promised she and her administration would work with Congress to better all our lives. Clearly, those promises were unconvincing.

Mr. Trump painted the United States as a dark and foreboding place, festering with immigrants and criminality. A place where good, “normal” Americans have been forgotten as unchecked progress reshapes the world they want — a white, middle-class, heterosexual world — into something inhospitable and unrecognizable. Mr. Trump lacks vision because he lacks imagination and empathy. He cares about himself and leads accordingly, surrounding himself with people who will enthusiastically stroke his ego and make him feel like the king he clearly wishes to be.

In the final, critical moments of the election cycle — during a Madison Square Garden rally featuring all of the bigotry to which we have become accustomed — I needed to believe we had, at long last, reached a point beyond which we could escape from the black hole of Mr. Trump’s terrible politics. Because if he were to be elected again despite all of this, if enough Americans remained obdurate in their willingness to embrace Republican extremism, it would be catastrophic.

And now Republicans will control the executive branch, the Senate and the House of Representatives. There will be few checks and balances.

Mistakes were made in the Harris campaign because mistakes are always made in presidential campaigns. Democrats are now reflecting on those mistakes and figuring out how to manifest a different outcome next time, if there is a next time. The recriminations have been numerous — too many celebrities, echo chambers, ignoring the economy, no alternative to the conservative media ecosystem, too much embracing of conservative politicians, too much identity politics, too big a tent, the price of eggs.

But to suggest we should yield even a little to Mr. Trump’s odious politics, to suggest we should compromise on the rights of trans people, for instance, and all of the other critical issues we care most about, is unacceptable. It is shameful and cowardly. We cannot abandon the most vulnerable communities to assuage the most powerful. Even if we did, it would never be enough. The goal posts would keep moving until progressive politics became indistinguishable from conservative politics. We’re halfway there already.

Mr. Trump’s voters are granted a level of care and coddling that defies credulity and that is afforded to no other voting bloc. Many of them believe the most ludicrous things: babies being aborted after birth and children going to school as one gender and returning home surgically altered as another gender even though these things simply do not happen. Time and again, we hear the wild lies these voters believe and we act as if they are sharing the same reality as ours, as if they are making informed decisions about legitimate issues. We act as if they get to dictate the terms of political engagement on a foundation of fevered mendacity.

We must refuse to participate in a mass delusion. We must refuse to accept that the ignorance on display is a congenital condition rather than a choice. All of us should refuse to pretend that any of this is normal and that these voters are just woefully misunderstood and that if only the Democrats addressed their economic anxiety, they might vote differently. While they are numerous, that does not make them right.

These are adults, so let us treat them like adults. Let us acknowledge that they want to believe nonsense and conjecture. They want to believe anything that affirms their worldview. They want to celebrate a leader who allows them to nurture their basest beliefs about others. The biggest challenge of our lifetime will be figuring out how to combat the American willingness to embrace flagrant misinformation and bigotry.

As Mr. Trump assembles his cabinet of loyalists and outlines the alarming policies he means to enact, it’s hard not to imagine the worst, not out of paranoia but as a means of preparation. The incoming president has clearly articulated that he may dismantle the Department of Education and appears to be giving the wealthiest man in the world unfettered access to the Oval Office. He plans to begin mass deportations immediately and has announced his pick of a Fox News host as the defense secretary — the list goes on, each promise more appalling than the last.

We would like to believe that many of the ideas on Mr. Trump’s demented wish list won’t actually come to fruition and that our democracy can once more withstand the new president and the people with whom he surrounds himself. But that is just desperate, wishful thinking. As of yet, there is nothing that will break the iron grip Mr. Trump has on his base, and Vice President-elect JD Vance is young enough to carry the mantle going forward for political cycles to come.

Absolutely anything is possible, and we must acknowledge this, not out of surrender, but as a means of readying ourselves for the impossible fights ahead.

“Mr. Trump’s voters are granted a level of care and coddling that defies credulity and that is afforded to no other voting bloc. Many of them believe the most ludicrous things: babies being aborted after birth and children going to school as one gender and returning home surgically altered as another gender even though these things simply do not happen. Time and again, we hear the wild lies these voters believe and we act as if they are sharing the same reality as ours, as if they are making informed decisions about legitimate issues. We act as if they get to dictate the terms of political engagement on a foundation of fevered mendacity. We must refuse to participate in a mass delusion. We must refuse to accept that the ignorance on display is a congenital condition rather than a choice. All of us should refuse to pretend that any of this is normal and that these voters are just woefully misunderstood and that if only the Democrats addressed their economic anxiety, they might vote differently. While they are numerous, that does not make them right.”

— A NYT opinion column that nails it.

[lupinqs]

CRUSH CULTURE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: paige has a hopeless crush on you, a cheerleader.

☆ ━ word count: 5.4K

☆ ━ warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, this one’s tame

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, inspired by this request (lol i know this was forever ago)

☆ ━ author’s note: hiii i hope y’all enjoy—lemme know if you guys want a part 2 and if so send in ideas for it!!! i have been hopelessly uncreative recently!!! also yes i have been writing tmtc and safe and sound i promise—new chapter of tmtc should be out sometime this weekend, no idea on safe and sound because goddamn that fic takes me forever to write

PAIGE HAS ALWAYS noticed you—though, funny enough, at first it wasn’t because you cheered. That part didn’t even register until her junior year, when she started paying attention to things off the court. But she’d first noticed you back in her sophomore year, in that one class she didn’t feel like she needed at all. She’d often zone out, either doodling in the margins of her notebook or letting her eyes drift around the room as she let her mind wander. Her gaze would skip over classmates until, one day, it stopped on you.

And, God, she remembers that moment. The way she’d blinked, like she needed to reset her brain for a second because… well, you. It wasn’t anything specific, nothing she could even name at the time. But there was this something about you that made her stomach flip. From then on, whenever she zoned out, her eyes would find you before she even realized it. You’d be focused on your notes or lost in thought, completely unaware, and Paige would catch herself staring just a little too long.

She’d think about talking to you, but for some reason, you made her nervous. And that wasn’t something Paige was used to feeling—not with girls. She’d been confident her whole life, even a little cocky when it came to flirting, and her reputation certainly proceeded her. But with you, all of that confidence vanished. Her brain would go blank, her hands would fidget, and her heart would pound just watching you, sitting across the room. The idea of walking up to you, striking up a conversation, felt almost laughable. You’d somehow managed to turn her, Paige Bueckers, into a stammering mess with just a look.

And then there was the other part—the part that kept her from making a move even when she managed to work up the nerve. You looked so…straight. She knows it’s a stupid assumption, but something about the way you carried yourself—she’d convinced herself that you had to be straight. Maybe it was the way you fit in with the other girls, how they flocked around you like they were all in some effortlessly straight, picture-perfect group. Whatever it was, Paige felt certain you’d never look at her the way she looked at you.

So she let it go, or at least, she tried to. But you kept slipping into her thoughts, distracting her in that class, making her mind wander back to you when she least expected it. Her silly little crush on you lingered all through sophomore year, and even when summer rolled around, she found herself thinking of you every now and then, imagining what it might have been like to know you outside of that class.

Then junior year rolled around, and her whole world changed with that ACL tear. Benched for the season, her focus shifted in ways she never anticipated. Instead of charging down the court, she found herself sitting on the sidelines, watching, observing things she normally wouldn’t have noticed. And it was during one of those games, one of those long, frustrating nights when she just wanted to play, that she saw you again—this time, on the court as one of the cheerleaders.

At first, she couldn’t believe it. She actually had to blink a few times, like her brain was trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. This was her third year at UConn, and she hadn’t noticed you were a cheerleader ever. Maybe she really was just unobservant, but it truly shocked her. You looked completely different from how you did in class—more animated, more alive, like you were in your element. And when you started that long, impressive tumbling pass down the court, her jaw dropped. She didn’t even know you could do that, and it left her staring, heart hammering in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. (And maybe the tiny little uniform helped speed it up, too.)

From then on, Paige couldn’t keep her eyes off you during games. She’d always find herself watching you, wondering if you’d somehow feel her gaze, hoping that maybe, just once, you’d look her way. She spent so many games like that—sneaking glances, letting her mind wander, imagining what it might be like to finally work up the nerve to talk to you. But game after game, you never seemed to notice her, too focused on your routines, your teammates, and the cheering crowd around you.

And Paige? She knew she was hopelessly stuck. She’d sit there on the sidelines, feeling ridiculous, pining after a girl she couldn’t even talk to, a girl she thought she’d never really have a chance with. It was her worst crush yet—the kind that left her feeling off-balance, stumbling over her own thoughts, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter—and she’d never even spoken to you. But each time she saw you out there, smiling, moving with that same effortless grace, she’d feel that same pull, that same quiet, persistent ache.

It’s senior year now, and Paige has one thing on her mind: basketball. It’s been more than a year since she’s played, and she’s determined to make this season count. All summer, she told herself the same thing over and over: Stay focused. Don’t get distracted. No more drifting thoughts, no more daydreams, and absolutely no more pointless crushes on girls she can’t have. And especially no crushes on you.

You, the cheerleader she’d spent too many junior year games staring at from the sidelines. You, the girl she still thought about when her mind wandered late at night, even though she knew better. No, this year, she was locking in. She’d worked too hard, too long, to let her head get all twisted up over you again. She was here to play basketball, not to chase after some unattainable crush.

But as she jogs onto the court for warm-ups, trying to ignore the butterflies that come with her first game back, her eyes somehow find you anyway. Just like they always do. And it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re laughing with the other cheerleaders, your hair perfectly styled in a half-up-half-down, a bow nestled in it, your uniform hugging you just right. The lights catch on your skin, giving you this soft glow, and your smile—God, that smile, so open and sweet and painfully distracting—has her heart skipping a beat before she even realizes it. Paige quickly snaps her eyes away, reminding herself she’s here to play, not to get lost in some imaginary world where she has a chance with you. This is her first game back, and even if it’s just an exhibition against Dayton, she’s got to make it count.

With a deep breath, she manages to brush you off. The pregame excitement kicks in, and her focus sharpens as the game begins. And it’s everything she’s been waiting for—the sounds of the court, the rush of the crowd, the thrill of moving with the ball in her hands again. She’s finally back, and for the first quarter, she’s locked in, feeling the rhythm of the game, feeling unstoppable.

Then it happens. KK makes a bad pass, and Paige is already in motion, chasing down the ball to save it from going out of bounds. She dives, stretching to reach it, but it’s just out of reach. Before she can stop herself, she’s crashing full speed into the sidelines—right into the cheerleaders.

Right into you.

The impact is quick and jarring, and she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can, heart hammering in her chest. She’s prepared to rattle off an apology when she realizes who she’s just barreled into. You’re significantly smaller than her, and her stomach drops as she takes in your wide eyes and the faint wince that flickers across your face. But you handle it with the same grace she’d always admired from afar, waving her off with a laugh and saying, “It’s fine! You’re good!” Your smile is easy, casual, and she’s even more mortified by how sweet you’re being about it.

She tries to apologize again, but you’re already brushing it off with that smile, and she feels her face heating up as she mumbles something unintelligible before hurrying back onto the court. But now her head’s a mess, all her carefully built-up focus gone, replaced by the embarrassing replay of what just happened. She tells herself to get it together, but it’s no use. Her mind keeps drifting back to the look on your face, to the sound of your laugh, to the softness in your smile when you waved her off.

The rest of the game passes in a frustrating blur. She’s off her rhythm, missing open shots she’d normally sink with ease, getting caught in rotations she usually anticipates. By the end, she’s only scored eight points—a painfully low number, especially for her—and she feels the weight of it like a stone in her stomach. She should be thinking about the game, her missed shots, how to get her focus back. But as she sits on the bench, watching the last few minutes tick away, all she can think about is you standing there, laughing off her clumsy collision, looking up at her with that easy, unbothered smile.

So much for not getting distracted.

After the game, Paige is still kicking herself over how sloppy her performance was. She lingers in the locker room, hoping to avoid any unwanted run-ins. But finally, when she’s convinced she’s given it enough time for everyone to clear out, she heads out into the quiet halls of Gampel Pavilion.

Except, of course, her luck isn’t that great. Just as she’s walking out, she spots you—still in your cheer uniform but with a UConn sweatshirt thrown over it, heading down the hall, cheer bag on your back. Her first instinct is to turn around, bolt back into the locker room, and hope to avoid any more humiliation, but it’s already too late. You look up, and your eyes meet, and suddenly she’s frozen in place, panicking because she’s actually staring straight into your eyes.

And then you smile at her. That smile, the one that sends her brain into a meltdown every time. But it’s so much worse now because your smile is directed at her. And, suddenly, you’re walking up to her and saying, “Hey, good game tonight,” and Paige is pretty sure her heart has stopped.

She tries to seem casual, to play it cool, but all she can manage is a shrug and a half-hearted, “Eh, wasn’t my best.” She’s hoping you don’t notice her stutter, but her cheeks are burning, giving her away.

You just wave it off, your dimple showing as you grin up at her. “Nah, this was just your warm-up. You haven’t played in, like, over a year. Next game you’ll drop thirty.”

Paige blinks, and the fact that you know she’s good at basketball—even though everyone knows she’s good at basketball—is enough to send her into a coma, she thinks. “Oh, gosh,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck, struggling to find words. “Gonna have to now, just for you.” The second it’s out of her mouth, she mentally facepalms. That totally sounds like she’s trying to flirt with you.

But you just laugh, eyes crinkling as you look at her, completely unfazed. “I’ll hold you to it,” you say, and that smile doesn’t waver.

There’s a pause, and Paige knows this is where you’re about to say goodbye, and she panics because, after two years of thinking and practically obsessing over you, she’s finally talking to you, and it feels too short, too fleeting. Before she can second-guess herself, she blurts, “Oh—uh, hey, about earlier… when I ran into you. I’m… really sorry about that.”

You shake your head, smiling even wider, brushing it off with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time; more than you’d think.”

There’s something so casual and warm about the way you say it, and she feels herself relax a little, caught up in the fact that you’re looking right at her, not at all bothered, almost… endeared? And for some reason, seeing your dimpled smile has her stammering like she’s never done before.

“So… uh…” Paige stumbles, her words failing, her confidence gone. “Are you, um, going to Ted’s tonight?” She bites her lip the moment it’s out, but she presses on. “You know, a lot of people go there after the first game—it’s kinda, like, a…thing. Which, y’know, I guess you probably already know about because… you’re, like, not a freshman…” She sounds so stupid. God.

You tilt your head slightly, considering, before you smile at her again. “I wasn’t really planning on going, but…” You pause, looking at her with a bit of a spark in your eyes, and for a second, she feels like she might actually combust. “Should I?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and she’s nodding before she can stop herself. “Y-yes! I—I think you’d have a good time.” She mentally scolds herself for the stutter, but you’re just nodding, still smiling, still looking so effortlessly at ease while she’s a nervous mess.

You laugh softly, a sound she’s sure she’ll replay in her head all night, and say, “Alright. I’ll think about it. And if I do decide to go, I’ll see you there, Bueckers.”

And with one last smile, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there in shock, her heart racing and her mind replaying every word you just said. She’s tempted to pinch herself, convinced this has to be some elaborate daydream because there’s no way she actually just talked to you.

She doesn’t move for a long moment, replaying the way you said her name, the sound of your laugh, and the chance that she might actually see you tonight.

IT’S LATER in the night at Ted’s, and Paige is doing her best to stay composed, talking with one of the guys from the men’s team. Dirty Shirley in hand, she’s feeling just the faintest buzz, not enough to loosen her grip on reality but just enough to feel the edges of her confidence soften. She’s nodding along to something the guy’s saying when, over his shoulder, she spots you walking in.

Paige’s attention falters as she takes you in. You’re in baggy jeans that hang low on your hips, and a leather tube top that clings in all the right places, dipping enough to make her gaze lower slightly. She can barely tear her gaze away as you head over to the bar with a couple of friends, both of whom Paige recognizes from the cheer team. You’re laughing, leaning into one of them, completely at ease, and she can’t stop watching.

She realizes she’s staring a little too long, so she quickly excuses herself, not to talk to you—God, no, she can’t even think straight around you—but to hide by her teammates before she does something stupid. Her teammates notice her the moment she approaches, grinning as they watch her flustered expression.

“You see who just walked in, P?” Azzi teases, nudging her.

Paige groans, cheeks burning. “Don’t start.”

But they’re all laughing, and Ice is elbowing KK with a smirk. Nika, who’s been listening with a barely disguised grin, rolls her eyes. “Okay, this is ridiculous. You’ve had a crush on this girl since, like, forever. Go talk to her.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t. She’s—” Paige doesn’t even finish the sentence, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see you at the bar, waiting for your drink. She’d be lying if she said her confidence hadn’t evaporated the moment you walked in, looking like that.

“Girl boo,” KK sighs dramatically, before grabbing Paige’s wrist and dragging her toward the bar. Paige stumbles after her, mumbling weak protests, but KK is determined, practically hauling her across the crowded floor until they’re standing right next to you. KK orders a Sprite, leaning casually on the bar and glancing over at you with a grin. “Hey, girly pop! You cheer, right?”

You smile, looking more at Paige than at KK, and Paige’s heart thuds against her ribs. “Yeah, I do,” you say, introducing yourself and holding out a hand to KK, but your gaze flickers right back to Paige, who’s half-hiding behind her friend, cheeks pink and looking slightly caught. “Hi, Paige.”

Paige’s voice comes out a little sheepish. “Hey.”

KK smirks, clearly satisfied, and gives Paige a quick wink before excusing herself, leaving Paige standing there alone with you.

There’s a beat of awkward silence as Paige shifts on her feet, trying to keep herself from looking like an idiot, which is hard considering how aware she is of every single thing about you—your posture, your smile, the way you’re leaning in just close enough that she can catch a faint hint of your perfume.

“So,” Paige says, trying for casual. “You glad you came?”

You tilt your head, your lips quirking up. “Hmm, not sure yet. I’m not too impressed so far.”

She nods, stifling a wince, feeling more awkward than she can ever remember. And yet, her mind’s racing, urging her to just go for it, because this is her moment. She’s Paige Bueckers—she’s supposed to be confident. She always is. Besides, if you’re not interested, at least she’ll know. And if you are…

She hesitates, then swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she says, “Um… can I buy you a drink?”

There’s a flicker of something in your eyes—maybe amusement, maybe surprise—and she’s mentally bracing herself for you to say no when you glance at the bar and say, “Actually, I just ordered one.” Her heart sinks a little, but she forces a smile, trying to play it off. Of course you’re not interested; she should have known better—

Then you’re leaning closer, nudging her elbow with yours, and you smirk, your voice soft and playful. “But you can buy my next one, if you want.”

Paige’s brain short-circuits as your words settle in, her mouth going dry as she realizes what you just said. “Uh, y-yeah, totally,” she manages, trying to keep from looking as giddy as she feels. “I…I’d love to.”

Your smirk turns into a grin, and you’re looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. She’s trying to come up with something smooth to say when, suddenly, one of your friends pops ups beside you and Paige, tugging on your arm, pulling you off the barstool and towards the crowd with a teasing, “Come on!”

Paige opens her mouth to protest, but before she knows it, you’re being swallowed up into the throng of people—not before you send her a quick, apologetic look over your shoulder, your friend still dragging you. Paige frowns, a little disappointed, but quickly catches herself. It’s fine, she thinks, though a twinge of regret lingers. She pushes it aside, grabbing her drink from the bar and returning back to her table, telling herself to focus on celebrating. She’s finally back on the court, and after such a long, difficult recovery, tonight is meant to be about unwinding. So she does, letting her team hype her up as they cheer and clink their drinks in her honor, pulling her deeper into the night.

As the time passes, Paige’s frustration eases, replaced by a warm buzz that dulls everything except the elation of being surrounded by her friends. But even as she sips her drink, she can’t help but think about where you’ve disappeared to, if you’re still here, still laughing with your friends somewhere across the bar. She finds herself scanning the crowd more than once, looking for a glimpse of you. She tries to push it down, laugh it off with another round, but every time she looks around, her gaze seems to search for you.

Eventually, the heat of the crowded bar gets to her. She feels flushed, dizzy from the alcohol and the mass of people, so she slips out the back door for some air. The cool breeze hits her face, and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing as the sounds of the bar fade behind her. She barely has a moment to herself before she notices a figure sitting just a few feet away.

It’s you, sitting on the curb, looking down at your hands as if lost in thought. Paige blinks, unsure if she’s seeing things. But then you look up at the sound of the door closing and smile, that familiar, gentle smile that makes her heart stutter. You seem just as surprised to see her, but your expression softens, like you’re genuinely happy she’s there. And that’s all the encouragement Paige needs.

“You care if I join?” she asks, trying to sound casual, even though her heart’s racing.

“Not at all,” you reply, and she takes a seat beside you, a bit closer than she planned. She feels your warmth even in the night air, and it makes her head spin in a way she can’t blame on the alcohol.

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence stretching between you. Paige watches as you draw patterns in the gravel with your fingers, the lights from the bar casting a soft glow over your face. She swallows, summoning up the nerve to say something—anything that might keep you sitting here with her.

“Why you out here?” she starts, genuinely curious.

You shrug, glancing back toward the bar. “Got a little claustrophobic in there,” you say, voice soft.

“Yeah… me too,” Paige nods, grateful for the fresh air and this quiet moment with you. The silence returns, but this time, it’s charged, heavy with something she can’t quite put into words.

Finally, Paige finds her voice again, her words slipping out before she can think them over. “You’re a good cheerleader, y’know. You do all those flips and shit—it’s impressive.”

You let out a small laugh, looking away for a second as if flattered. Paige is almost certain she sees a faint blush on your cheeks, and the sight makes her smile a little, lips curving upward. “Didn’t know you really paid attention to the cheerleaders,” you respond, teasing.

Paige scoffs, shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal, even though she feels like she’s been caught in some sort of confession—which, she kinda has. “Well, I did sit out for a year, so… I had to find something to watch.”

You tilt your head, smirking as you ask, “So you chose to watch me?”

Paige’s cheeks warm, and she silently thanks the alcohol for the courage that lets her meet your gaze. “Yeah,” she murmurs, watching as you look away, biting your lip as if trying to hide a smile. The sight makes her heart skip in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

After a moment, Paige adds, “I think we… had a class together, couple years ago?”

You nod, eyes lighting up at the memory. “Yeah, we did. Sociology, right?” you reaffirm, nodding in tandem with her. “’M surprised you remember that—you always seemed so disinterested.”

Paige nearly blanches, genuinely surprised you’d noticed her too. She didn’t think you’d have remembered her, much less noticed her back then. The notion gives her some of her usual confidence beck and she manages a chuckle, shaking her head and tilting it slightly toward you as she murmurs, “Ah, so you were watching me too, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you as you nudge her shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter, but the blush on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.

There’s another pause, the two of you sitting side by side in the quiet, both of you lingering on the edge of something unsaid. Finally, you break the silence, voice soft and hesitant. “How come you never said anything before?”

Paige swallows, the question catching her off guard. She doesn’t know how to answer without giving herself away, without admitting the way her stomach twists every time she sees you around campus. So instead, she asks, turning the question back on you, “How come you never did?”

You don’t seem to mind that she didn’t really give you an answer. Instead, you just shrug, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know… you make me kinda nervous.”

The confession makes Paige’s heart alight, feeling like it’s on fire and might spread throughout her whole body. She’s used to people being in awe of her for basketball, for her skills on the court. But hearing you say that you feel that way too, like she’s someone more than just her reputation, shakes her. Besides, you’ve always seemed so incredibly at ease around her, never even bothering to look her way. So, almost incredulously, she asks, “Why?”

You scoff, looking at her like she’s missing something obvious. “Um, because you’re Paige Bueckers. Basketball prodigy, campus celebrity.” You raise your eyebrows at her. “I think most people would be.”

Paige feels a rush of warmth at your words, the way you say her name like it means something special. She searches your face, feeling the air grow thick around you, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. And maybe it’s the alcohol in her system, maybe it’s the way you’re looking at her like she’s somehow both intimidating and endearing at the same time, but she’s feeling bold. Bold enough to keep this conversation going, to see where this moment might lead.

She clears her throat, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it helps… you make me nervous.”

You laugh, a little breathless, clearly surprised. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Paige insists. “You ain’t see the way I stuttered around you earlier? Ion know, ma, you just kinda fuck with my head.”

She watches, grin widening, as you blush at her words, the color blooming across your cheeks. It’s addictive, seeing you react like that—because of her. She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when you ask, gaze set out in front of you instead of on her, “Why would I fuck with your head?”

It’s a good question, one Paige asked herself for a long time. It never took her long to figure out the answer. Though, she’s a little nervous to explain herself.

And she gets even more nervous when your gaze slides back onto hers, your head turning towards her. Paige’s smile falters, just slightly, at the eye contact. It’s intense, the kind that feels like it’s holding the world still for a second. Paige’s heart is a drum in her chest, each beat vibrating through her veins. Her eyes slide across your face, your features, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the faint shimmer glitter swiped along your eyelids. She catalogues every detail as if she’s never going to get this close again—a very real possibility if she doesn’t up her game.

Finally, she leans in—just slightly—her voice low and steady as she answers you. “You got this positive energy that makes you just… stand out in front of a crowd. Big smile. Bright eyes. Mm, I just… like seeing that in people.”

The words settle in the space between you, warm and lingering. Paige hesitates, letting them wrap around you both before adding, her voice dipping lower, her boldness shooting upward, “And it doesn’t help that you’re too beautiful for your own good.”

You blush deeper this time, cheeks tinted more red than pink, and it makes Paige’s heart skip. She can’t help the way her lips twitch into a grin. She’s waited so long to see this—see you flustered because of her. It’s everything she imagined and more.

“Stop,” you protest, fighting a smile as you push at her hands, your tone not carrying any weight behind the word. Paige just laughs, soft and easy, catching your hand in hers before you can pull away. She lifts it slightly, letting her thumb brush over your knuckles as she murmurs, “Nah, really.”

It’s then that the air changes—shifting into something heavier. The space between the two of you is practically nonexistent at this point, your sides tucked right into each other. You’re staring at one another, and Paige can’t help it when her gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a second. But it turns out to be enough. Because then she sees your eyes dart to her mouth in return, lingering there. And that’s when Paige knows.

Still holding your hand, she locks her gaze on yours, her voice firm but soft when she repeats, “Really.”

It’s like that word unlocks something between you because suddenly you’re leaning in, and Paige is doing the same, her breath catching the moment your lips touch hers. It’s soft, tentative at first, like neither of you are quite sure if this is real. But then you press into her just slightly, and Paige swears the whole world tilts on its axis.

The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, and Paige feels her whole body light up. Your lips are warm, soft, and you taste faintly of tequila and strawberry chapstick. It’s intoxicating, the way you move against her, gentle but with enough purpose to make her head spin. Paige’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

Your fingers grab at her bicep, holding on like you don’t want to let go, and it sends a thrill through her. Paige’s lips part slightly, and when you follow, letting her slip her tongue into your mouth, it’s like a fire ignites somewhere deep inside her. The kiss isn’t frantic or messy—it’s unhurried, like the two of you have all the time in the world to explore this. She can feel the heat of your skin where her hand cups your face, and she wants to memorize every second, every sensation.

The way you tilt your head just a little, giving her more access, nearly undoes her. Paige tilts her own in response, deepening the kiss further, her fingers slipping from your jaw to the back of your neck. The touch is light, almost reverent, but the closeness makes her heart race.

Your other hand moves, grazing against her side before resting lightly on her hip. Paige’s stomach flips at the contact, her body leaning instinctively closer to yours. She swears she can feel the warmth of your breath between kisses, the subtle hitch when she nips at your bottom lip.

It’s slow, it’s sweet, but it’s intoxicating. Paige swears she’s never kissed anyone like this before, never felt this much just from simple lip-locking. When you pull back slightly—not breaking the kiss entirely, just catching your breath—she can’t help herself. She follows you instinctively, her mouth chasing yours in a way that feels both vulnerable and utterly fearless. You allow her to, tongues half entwined between your swollen lips.

When you finally part, Paige keeps close, her forehead gently pressing against yours, her hand still cradling your neck. Neither of you moves far, the space between you so small your breaths still mingle, soft and warm against each other’s lips. Paige’s eyes flutter open, but she doesn’t look away from you, her gaze locked on yours like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—which, right now, you might as well be.

Her voice comes out lower than she intends, husky and laced with something she can’t quite hide as she murmurs, “You gonna let me buy you that drink now?”

Your lips curve into a slow, easy grin, and Paige feels her chest tighten, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. You’re so close she can see the faint glimmer of mischief in your eyes, the way they soften as you look at her.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but sure, “I’d like that.”

The way you say it, the way your smile widens just slightly after, makes Paige’s heart race all over again. She can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across her face. Paige leans back just enough to take in the sight of you—your flushed cheeks, the way your hair’s slightly mussed, and that lingering, breathtaking smile she knows will haunt her in the best way.

“Good,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing your jaw lightly one last time before she pulls away completely, standing up and offering you her hand. When you take it, she holds on a little longer than necessary, leading you back into the bar, already planning how she’s going to keep you smiling for the rest of the night—and, hopefully, much longer afterwards.

[willowpains]

can we please get a latina!actress and drew imagine where of how they got together or meeting his family??? I LOVED the first one sm!

meeting the fam

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

the parents

Drew’s parents were in Charleston for the weekend, visiting him at the set of the show for the last few shooting days before wrapping season one.

They had kindly invited you all out to dinner to finally meet Drew’s friends.

He was so excited you were finally meeting part of his family.

Everyone who knew Drew knew how much he loved and cared for them.

So getting to finally meet them was exciting and nerve wracking at the same time.

Madelyn, Chase, Rudy, Madison, JD, Austin and you had finally arrived at the restaurant, where Drew and his parents were already waiting for you all in a table near the back of the place.

A little Italian restaurant in downtown Charleston.

Was there a more perfect place than that?

The moment his parents saw you all approaching, they stood up embracing you all in tight hugs and lovely greetings, Drew standing on the side smiling widely.

You walked to his mom as you offered her a big smile.

“Hi, I’m…” you said looking at her excitedly.

She made a happy high pitch sound as she looked at you, pulling you in for a hug.

“You must be y/n!” she said giving you the biggest bear hug. “Oh my God, you’re so much beautiful in person” she said as she pulled back to look at you with bright eyes.

You blushed at her comment.

“You’re too nice…” you paused with a smile, not sure if you should address her by her name or if that would be too impersonal.

She smiles as she gives your arms a little warm squeeze.

“You can call me Jodi dear” she smiles at you as she hugs you one more time before letting you go.

You move on to greet his dad, Todd, introducing yourself as well, making little small talk as you all settle yourselves on the table ready to order.

The night goes on smoothly, filled with laughs and anecdotes of baby Drew, courtesy of his lovely parents.

You were all having too much fun hearing his embarrassing baby stories and juicy teenage drama.

As the dinner went on with chatter, pasta and wine, you couldn’t help but smile at how happy and at ease Drew looked around his parents.

It made your heart warm.

Before you all left after having spent a wonderful night together, you approached his parents to wish them a good night.

“It was lovely meeting you two” you say smiling up at them. “I had so much fun, and now I know where Drew got his sense of humor”.

Todd laughs at your comment as Jodi hugs you.

“It was so nice meeting you too dear” she says as she leans back smiling at you. “We hope you can visit us back home soon, you’re welcome anytime” she looks at you and then at the rest of your friends. “You’re all welcome”.

You blush at her words, feeling their love and affection.

“Thank you so much” you say smiling at her. “You’re more than welcome at home back in Mexico whenever you want” you smile sweetly at them as you eye Drew smirking from behind them.

Jodi hugs you one last time before letting you go.

“We might take you up on that offer” she says laughing looking at Todd.

Everyone bids their goodbyes before Drew approaches you as you all walk out of the restaurant.

“Your parents are amazing” You say as you give him a smile.

She shrugs cockily as he looks at you.

“What can I say?” He says smirking at you. “They did raise a pretty cool kid”.

You laugh at him as you hit him playfully.

“A pretty humble one” you say sarcastically with a smile.

He laughs softly, throwing his head back and looking at you again.

“They really loved you” he says, looking attentively at you. “All of you” he lets out, his gaze never leaving yours.

You blush at his words.

The night had gone as perfect as you’d imagined.

the siblings

This was not how you imagined your morning starting.

The night before had been quite successful, if you could call it that.

Madelyn and Drew had invited you all over to their place, for a typical drinking night at their place.

So you all had gathered there to drink and chat, as usual.

But things might have gone a bit overboard than usual.

You had a few free days from filming, so you all took that and rolled with it, not caring about anything besides having fun all together.

And that’s how, that morning, you woke up with a headache and no phone at your place.

You had no idea how you had gotten to your apartment and tucked yourself in bed. You tried to remember but your mind was hazy and blurry.

And as you tried to find your phone, it was nowhere to be seen.

That’s how you ended up going down in the elevator to Maddie’s and Drew’s floor.

You prayed your phone was somewhere in their place, cause if not, you’d be cooked.

On your way down, you cringed as you caught the reflection of yourself in the elevator mirror. This was not your best look.

Your hair was messy tied in a low bun, and you were wearing a big oversized t-shirt with the obx logo, and underneath, some very small sleeping shorts that were invisible under your big tee and sleepers.

Yeah, you were not beating the hungover allegations.

As the doors of the elevator opened, you walked to their apartment as you knocked on their door.

You closed your eyes as your head throbbed a little, you just wanted to find your phone, and go back up to your place to drink a gallon of water and maybe take some aspirin.

And then you thought, where they still hungover and asleep? You hadn’t even taken a second to wonder that maybe you would be waking them up.

In all honesty, you didn’t even know what time it was.

But just then, you heard footsteps coming from inside the apartment and the door being opened.

Revealing a man with an unknown but familiar face at the same time.

Were you at the wrong floor?

This was too much for you and your brain in this state.

You squinted your eyes a little as you looked at the man in front of you. You looked from him to the apartment number, wondering if you had messed up. As you opened your mouth to speak his eyes narrowed as he looked at you.

“Can I help…” his eyes went from squinting to surprised. “You’re y/n!” he said smiling at you, looking happy and surprised. “I’m Logan, Drew’s brother.

You blink while looking at him.

He was Drew’s brother.

Now you remember. He had said his siblings were coming to stay with him for a few days to spend the break with him.

Oh dear God. You had totally forgotten.

And now you were standing in the door, in front one of his siblings, in pijamas and hungover.

Worst first impression ever.

“Oh my god, hi!” You say, accidentally sounding a bit too excited than you intended. “It’s so nice to meet you” you smile, clearing your throat, feeling too embarrassed to think of something else to say.

He laughs softly at you, and before you can say anything else, another voice from behind echoes.

“Logan, who’s that?” A girl with brow hair pops up from behind him while looking at you.

You wished the earth could swallow you whole.

“Hi, I’m y/n” you say smiling anxiously at her.

Your appearance definitely was not giving you any confidence at the moment.

“Oh my God” she says smiling at you while shoving his brother aside. “You’re the y/n!” she says excitedly while approaching you. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long” she finishes as she pulls you for a hug. “I’m Brooke”.

The only thing you could do was return the hug while laughing nervously.

“Come in, we’re making breakfast” Logan says as he invites you in, closing the door behind you.

You really didn’t wanna be there in that moment.

Like, it was lovely meeting them, they seemed like the sweetest persons ever, but, you were feeling sticky, nauseous and embarrassed that they had to meet you like this.

Just your luck.

“Oh thank you so much, but…” you were interrupted as a girl with blonde hair walked out the kitchen.

She paused her steps looking at you.

“Mackayla, you’re not gonna believe this, she’s y/n!” Brooke said to her sister, as she side hugged you.

You smile at her softly while waving at her.

Her eyes brighten while she smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” she says excitedly. “Drew didn’t tell us you were coming, we would’ve cooked something better than pancakes” she smiles at you.

God how you wished you could’ve showered before coming down.

“No, please don’t worry!” you say a little too fast, looking at them, causing them to eye you with a confused look. “I really don’t wanna interrupt your breakfast” you say smiling at them embarrassed.

This was the worst situation ever.

Or that’s what you thought.

Because as you finished talking, Drew came walking down the hall, shirtless, with only some sleeping shorts and a towel on his hand while he dried his hair.

“What are you guys bickering about?” he says walking to his siblings before he stops and notices you.

You look at him while giving him an awkward smile.

His eyes open a bit too much in surprise.

“Hi” you mumble out sheepishly. “I just came by to see if I had left my phone here” you say blushing a little at the attention. “Cannot find it anywhere” you say moving your hands, showing them how they’re empty.

God you were being pathetic.

Was this how animals at the zoo felt?

“Uh yeah yeah” he blinks at you. “I was gonna bring it up to you later” he says walking to the couch, picking it up and handing it to you.

You take it from him while sighing in relief.

“Thank you so much” you say as you hug your phone dramatically. “I was panicking” you say laughing while looking at his siblings.

They all looked between you and Drew smiling.

You cleared your throat.

“I should get going now” you say smiling softly at them. “It was really nice meeting you” you say, feeling way embarrassed as each second passed.

Mackayla shaked her head looking at you.

“Please stay, we’d love for you to join us!” she says smiling at you hopeful.

“I really don’t wanna impose” you say giving them a sheepish smile, before Brooke shrugs and shakes her head.

“None of that! Maddie will join us too” she smiles at you.

Drew lets out a chuckle.

“If she wakes up” he says laughing softly.

In that moment, Maddie walks out of her room towards the bathroom, stopping herself to give Drew a humorless look.

“I am wake” she says before hiding herself in the bathroom.

You all burst into soft laughter before you can feel all their eyes on you once again.

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“Give me 5 minutes to shower and I’ll be down with a brand new box of cookies from home I have in my place” you say giving them a smile.

They all laugh while you’re already walking out the door.

“Deal!” Logan laughs as they all see the door close behind you.

You run up to you place, chugging an aspirin and getting into the shower to get yourself looking decent and to try and fix your first impression on Drew’s siblings.

Down at his place, they’re finishing setting the table and cooking breakfast.

“She’s cute” Mackayla says as she gives Drew a look.

He laughs softly under his breath looking at her suspiciously.

“Yeah, she can pull that hangover look, not everyone can, it’s hard” Logan lets out before Drew smacks him playfully in the head.

He groans while his sisters laugh at him.

“She seems funny too” Brooke says walking to them. “That’s a good quality to have you know” she lets out while looking at Drew.

He rolls his eyes at his siblings comments, trying to act nonchalant.

“Don’t be weird around her” he lets out, smiling at the memory of you at his apartment in your disheveled look.

How were you able to make the best impressions even having just woken up?

*

omggg I loved writing this request! thank you so much for sending it and liking my work, hope you love it<3

sorry for taking a bit to post it, I have been feeling a little off my game

please feel free to send in asks and requests if you wanna know anything about latina actress reader!

headcanons, blurbs, moodboards, social media posts, I’m open to anything!

[dykedvonte]

You ever just see a Mouthwashing take that makes you want to bang your head into a wall? I literally just saw someone claim Curly couldn't have been emotionally abused by Jimmy before the crash because he was in a higher position of power than Jimmy.

-Shrimp Anon

The mouthwashing fandom has shown me that people genuinely do believe that certain types of abuse are not as detrimental as other types especially when they deem those immune/resistant, ergo, believing one is objectively worse no matter how it affects the person nor the intersections of power, history and dynamics at play.

Get ready cause this is a yap session:

Cause like it's heavily implied that Curly and Jimmy's friendship was toxic and abusive, pointedly in the direction of how Jimmy uses Curly's belief/comfort in him. Curly wasn't forced to enable Jimmy but he was emotional and mentally on edge around him in almost every scene in some way. Mental and emotional abuse are not contingent on what positions you have at work. Yeah, he's Jimmy's boss but he was Jimmy's friend first and it's like getting into Psych discussion to talk about how social power tends to overshadow any perceived organizational power in the human mind. People are concerned about their jobs ofc but they tend to hang onto and put more value/investment into their personal relationships, hence why there tends to be laws and restrictions around mixing the two.

I always see the sentiments that "Curly is a grown ass man", "Curly is bigger than Jimmy", "Curly is Jimmy's boss", "He just needed a backbone" as criticisms of Curly and while I do agree that on the surface level all of these to be true and viable ways Curly could've taken more control of the situation, I often look at the parallels of Anya and Curly as victims of Jimmy pre/post crash.

The way Jimmy talks to Anya post crash is how he talked to Curly in the pre-crash segments. It's hard to pin-point mainly because we know he hates and wants nothing to do with Anya compared to his contrary but similarly handled obsessions with Curly. It's a weird sort of "honey-moon" effect of abuse Jimmy does in terms of emotional and mental victimization. He is always horrid to Anya, always talking down or questioning her abilities and thoughts in a situation, this of course includes the harassment and assault. However, he has a moment of attempted gentleness/conditioning when he question her about the mouthwash when she's contemplating drinking it at the table. The key difference is he has no personal investment in Jimmy outside wanting nothing to do with him, meaning there is no sort of romanticized version of him that he can condition her off of. He knows this, hence, why he always reverts to trying to make her to scared to oppose him.

This sort of give and take of "kindness" doesn't work on her because she knows he is just doing it to take more from her than whatever he could possibly give but it reflects even the "softer" scenes between him and Curly where he always rewords or rephrases Curly's sentiments and concerns to sound more shallow. He is feigning a deeper understanding by reworking Curly's emotions into something bad and needing to be hidden. Everything is laced with envy and resentment, an outburst just around the corner, I mean he even slams the table in the birthday party scene, a tactic in emotional manipulation to set the victim on edge and cloud their ability to respond. Even if Curly knows Jimmy won't get physical in that moment, the physical actions is intended to make him back down in the confrontation in case it does. This is something that is just not person specific. It ingrains itself into how you interact with the world and life and it shows in major and minor ways with Curly.

Post-crash, the abusive nature is more in tandem to the physical victimization Anya went through and the stripping of voice and autonomy we see take place. Like the parasite in HFIM, Jimmy speaks for Curly most of the time and puts words in his mouth, similarly to how he takes Anya's plans as his own. He very commonly, with the both of them mind you, supplements the worst aspects of himself into them; pettiness, selfishness, lack of understanding... And tries to cover himself with their best qualities; kindness, planning, initiative, etc...

These parallel are just to say that positional power has little to do with if a person can be abused and how it can even be flipped to further the abuse. There is no doubt that Curly could've picked up on Jimmy's envy of his position hence another reason he never confronted him as a Captain but as a friend as doing so would immediately put Jimmy in a space to be confrontational/combative.

I think the disdain some people have when they talk about the heavily implied if not implicitly stated emotional/mental abuse Curly experienced being Jimmy's friend is when treating it as an excuse to why he didn't do more. I can understand that completely because it is not an excuse to why he didn't do more but is a very real reason people in his position in these scenarios can experience whether in the context of a work or social environment. However, I also think the way people talk about it really does demonstrate a bigger problem when talking about abuse when somehow who is/was abused is either part of the issue or enabled it.

Harkening back to the sentiments about Curly's inaction regarding Jimmy, I think the exact phrases I used/have seen show how there is an inherent belief that it is easier to overpower the effects of emotional/mental abuse that go in tandem with the perception of Curly as someone who should be able to. There is not an age you suddenly stop being susceptible to abuse nor a set point or low where you realize how it has affected you. You don't suddenly know to stand up or put a face on to face your abuser nor admit that you inadvertently enabled them to subjugate someone else to the same treatment. Maybe it's my psych brain but their is this growing belief that direct action is somehow easy or always the best method with the game shows you instances where it is not always the case. In real life that rings true too. He should have done more, but it's not impossible to see why he struggled to find a way or didn't even if it makes us mad.

It's not easy to suddenly gain a "back-bone". You don't immediately want to resort to aggression, especially if it mirrors the type you were a victim to. You don't want to believe you allowed yourself to be treated this bad, let it get that bad or allowed something bad to happen to someone else. It is easy to be in denial, to retreat to your thoughts or make excuses to avoid the painful truth. It's frustrating but in a way we know is relatable. It why we both hate and love Curly for it. We know we'd be better, we think we'd be better, we like to think we wouldn't falter in the same ways but it's always easier to say that from the outside looking in. It's easy to see what he was doing wrong because we are seeing it, not him, but the game really does make you picture what you would do if this was your raw reality and it's why this debate about Curly seems so never ending/contradictory. We can all say what we'd do but bottom line is that's much different when you're in the moment with all the emotions and human feelings attached.

I personally think Mouthwashing tackles the themes of rape culture, enabling, toxic masculinity, types of abuse and patriarchy in ways that are meant to deconstruct the typical straightforward views we mostly have of these concepts and how little subtilities of them are just as, if not more, detrimental than the overt/obvious parts. The game deals with the idea of little details and bigger picture in a way to show that sometimes the bigger picture is not the issue but the little details that make it up. It's why I have a personal dislike of depictions of Jimmy as the typical horrible person who would of course do something like this because the game is about noticing the little warning signs, the foreshadowing and foresight.

It's why I dislike the typical discussion of "bro code" and "boys will be boys" for the game because the game makes a point to avoid the standard depictions of such. It is about the type of men who still enable despite not condoning, agreeing or even perpetuating harmful beliefs because they can't see the little details or the ways it seeps into their everyday. The severity is not obvious to them as it was not obvious to Curly, Swansea or even Daisuke the way it was to a woman like Anya. There are little details about Jimmy that should ring alarms but if you are too naive like Daisuke, too distant like Swansea or too conditioned like Curly, they are just off markers.

There is 100% more constructive/concise ways to say "Curly was a victim of Jimmy's abuse on an emotional and mental aspect that clouded his judgements and perceptions in the scenario" while also critiquing on the side of "Curly still had a responsibility to protect Anya as a crew mate and Captain that he failed to do due to biases and stigma's he failed to surpass" without the weird condemnation people give him about should've knowing better than to let himself be manipulated by a person he considered a close, if not family/best-friend and had his own reasons to trust initially. Also stop being weird about victims of abuse in general with this fandom, like sorry not everyone has a like social epiphany the moment someone's nasty to them. People are treating it like you immediately know when you are in a toxic relationship immediately or comprehend when a person is actively dangerous and either it's your fault for not knowing how to leave/cut them off or you deserve it. Like the hypocrisy of people believing how certain fans treat the story reflect their irl views but not their own is crazy.

End statement is: I honestly don't even know man, I've been writing this too long and just like no man on that ship was perfect or really helped Anya when it mattered and I feel like pitting them against each other in discussion on who did the least or most or how it was justified sucks cause in the end Anya always did the most and best thing for herself.

[hypothermya]

I didn’t know it would do that to you. Does it… I hesitate, biting my lip. …does it hurt?

Your silence tells me everything.

I don’t know how to fix it, but I try my best.

You’re shivering, so I take the coat and throw it round your shoulders. I put a chair in that awkward just-out-of-sight place tucked in the corner near the front door. You sit. But only on the edge of the chair, doe-like, poised to spring away.

I tell you to hold on a moment, then go to fetch you a finished cup of tea. I put it in your hands. You swirl the dregs. Perhaps it’s my imagination, but you seem soothed.

Encouraged, I do other half way things. I dim the lights. Flip off the furnace, so it stops breathing but still occasionally groans and mutters. Lower the blinds, not enough.

You settle. Breathe more deeply.

They warned me about you, you say.

Me?

Not you specifically. Anyone who looks too perceptive. Too kind.

I’m halfway through kicking off only one shoe, and and awkwardly stand with it hanging off one foot.

I look kind?

You laugh a little. Then you stand and walk to my periphery. Surprisingly close, yet just out of sight. I like this. I’m not sure if I should. But I hold still waiting to see what you do.

Yes. You look kind.

You sound resentful, curious, fascinated. I feel your breath near my ear. Neither of us breathe. The space between this moment and the next grows big, heavy. The sort of moment I imagine you like. That I hope you like.

I close my eyes, unsure what I want. Unsure what you want. But hoping.

I hear your footstep. Sense the slightest movement. Feel the warmth of you near my face. Then a whisper of fabric — the coat — and instinctively I reach out to catch it. My hand clumsily catches it, and I blush. I should have let it fall. I do let go.

Oh no, you whisper as the fabric hits the floor.

But it’s too late. I’m already starting to vanish.

sexualizing maids in a way that totally skips over any actual sex, humanity, or, in many cases, flesh

[dissapointu]

💜-MasterList-💜

💜-Guidelines & Info-💜

💜-Rules-💜

💜Arcane : Masterlist 💜

Headcannons and drabbles

Arcane characters with a blind s/o

Jayce and Viktor with a Dancer Reader

Arcane Characters with an Autistic S/O

How the main characters of Arcane treat you as their adorably short partner

How each of the main Arcane characters treats you as a chubby partner, supports you through insecurities, and makes you feel completely loved

All the mains of Arcane with a Dancer Reader

terminally ill doctor (with the condition Anguish) who helps others but struggles with her own illness.

hickeys they'd give you and hickeys you'd give them

reader who is a mage

Arcane characters interact with an S/O who wears glasses

how each of the Arcane characters would interact with a ditzy S/O

Reader likes listening to sad songs

Arcane characters with a reader (S/O) who helps them release pent-up energy

Drabbles: Arcane Characters with a Sick Partner

Drabbles: Arcane Characters with an ADHD and Restless S/O

S/O headcanons for Arcane characters, with insights into their relationships and personalities—and just a hint of spice.

Arcane characters spending Valentine’s Day with their s/o

Arcane characters walking in on you changing

JINX

Jinx Dating Headcanons

“Steamy Mischief”

“Electric Touch”

“Overwatch”

“Rest for a Wrecking Ball”

“Listening to the Chaos”

“Blue Like You”

How Jinx Would Comfort You When You’re Sad

How Jinx Would Cuddle with You at Night

How Jinx Would React to an Insecure s/o

How Jinx Would Be Affectionate Toward Her Partner

How Jinx Would Act After an Argument with Her Partner

How Jinx Would Act if Their Partner Got Hurt

Jinx Dating Shenanigans

Jinx x Shy and Quiet Reader Headcannons

“Scatterbrained Kisses”

“Chaos and Comfort”

“Trying out new Things” NSFW

jinx had a girlfriend that was affectionate

Jinx with a Raze (from Valorant) s/o

jinx with a girlfriend who likes to wear short skirts and dresses.

VI

Vi Dating Headcanons

Vi imagine

“Ink of Love”

“Lazy Mornings With Vi”

“A Stroke of purple”

“Rom-Com Kisses”

How Vi consoles

How Vi Would Cuddle with You at Night

How Vi Would React to a Clingy Partner

How Vi Would React to a S/O insecure about their weight

“A Quiet Moment”

“Tired of Watching You Hurt”

NSFW: A Ride from Behind

“Silence and Screams”

SEVIKA

Sevika dating Headcanons

Sevika Dates Headcannons

“A Quiet Night at The Last Drop”

“Lucky Cards”

Sevika x Shy and Quiet Reader Headcannons

“Steel and Softness”

“Steel Wrapped in Warmth”

“Steel Meets Softness”

“Unspoken Bonds”

Sevika with a reader that has more stamina and drive

Sevika with an S/O Headcanons (Appearance, Personality, and a Touch of Smut)

VICTOR

VIKTOR RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

Ekko

“Your Touch”nsfw

Movie night in with Ekko (nsfw)

Ekko, in a relationship where he’s younger than his s/o

“Stressed “

Ekko with an S/O Headcanons (Appearance, Personality, and a Touch of Smut)

A Steamy Encounter with You (ekko Nsfw)

“In the Glow of Firelights”

Ekko with a Hyperactive Partner

Dating Headcanons for Ekko

Silco

Silco with a reader who has a high a high sex drive

Silco, has a reader calling him “daddy.”

💜-REQUEST GUIDELINES-💜

[not opened]

Anything from anything

Any fandom is okay

Angst

Fluff

smut (idk if mind are that good)

-use your common sense

Anything LGBTQ is fine with me

“If it don't hurt nobody it doesn't matter.”

Its a no for morally questionable things

-inscest

-animal gross stuff

💜-Info-💜

^^ I have a lot of stories stored uo for lots of different fandoms, im doing them notes file by notes file I that's how I spam post :D^^

^^I have a daily lax schedule currently (this can change)^^

^^i will probably update this Frequently^^

I PERSONALLY LIKE:

Undertale (Aus, og, the whole lot)

TMNT (Rise, bayverse, 2012, even genderswap)

ARCANE (jinx, Vi, Sevika, Silco, vander, ekko, Jayce, viktor, Caitlyn, Mel Medarda, Ambessa Medarda, Cecil B. Heimerdinger, Salo, Scar, Maddie Nolen, Lest)

Creepypasta

One piece

Inuyasha

Bound 1996

Overwatch

Slashers

[zerun0]

Can you make a fanfic about spending time with Viktor in his greenhouse? 👉👈 Whether it will be more romantic or more spicy is your decision

"Ivy and Iron" — Viktor x Y/N (Gender-Neutral)

English is not my first language. Feel free to comment on any of my mistakes and i will update the post, also I more than happy to receive suggestions, and advice on how to improve my work. — !SFW! — Established relationship, Fluff, Flirting, Garden, kissing. — Word count: — 1,5k (Full uncut version on AO3)

The dome was alive... more alive than anyone had thought possible in a city like Zaun.

Viktor stood among the green area, just above him, fractured glass panes refracted sunlight into shimmering beams that danced across the greenery below. Nature had reclaimed this once-dead space, transforming the ruin into an oasis of color and vitality. Ivy wove intricate patterns along the cracks, mending the broken with threads of green. Flowering vines spilled over from high ledges, their blossoms in hues so vibrant they felt almost otherworldly. Beneath his feet, moss softened the worn stone path, and ferns swayed as if breathing. The air was warm, humid with the scent of earth and blossoms—a stark contrast to Zaun’s metallic chill and acrid fumes.

And in the center of it all was you.

Viktor’s kaleidoscopic eyes lingered on you as you knelt in the soil, gently tending a bed of seedlings. Your fingers moved with careful precision, coaxing life from the dirt with a tenderness that stirred something deep in him. You looked so at peace, surrounded by the vibrancy you had nurtured, your hands stained with earth, your lips curved in a small smile of satisfaction.

He hesitated at the edge of the clearing, his cane tapping lightly against the mossy stone. The sound drew your attention, and when you glanced up, your eyes brightened.

“Viktor,” — you greeted, rising to your feet. There was warmth in your voice, as though you were genuinely pleased to see him. — “You made it.”

He stood there gracefully, his cane tapping softly against the moss-covered stone. The sunlight streaming through the fractured glass dome above dappled his pale face, highlighting the faint glow of his enhancements. The plants had flourished far beyond what he had imagined. Yet, despite the brilliance of the paradise he’d created, it was you who held his attention.

“I could not stay away,” — he admitted, stepping closer. — “You care for this place with such devotion. I wished to see it through your eyes.”

Your lips quirked up in a soft smile. — “It’s your creation, Viktor. I’m just the gardener.”

“You are far more than that,” — he replied, his voice laced with quiet conviction. — “Without your hands, without your care, this place would be nothing compared to what it is now..."

You glanced around at the verdant space, the vibrant green leaves and radiant flowers whispering softly in the warm breeze. Birds flitted between the vines; insects hummed industriously over beds of herbs. Everywhere life teemed, and the air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and fertile soil.

“It’s easy to care for something so full of potential,” — you said softly. — “But you’re the reason any of this exists in the first place. These plants wouldn’t have a chance in Zaun if it weren’t for you.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. — “Perhaps.”

The two of you wandered deeper into the dome, your pace unhurried. As you walked, you pointed out the various plants you’d been tending—climbing vines heavy with blossoms, patches of herbs growing in carefully arranged beds, fruit trees that had begun to bear their first harvest. Viktor listened intently, his sharp mind absorbing your every word.

“These fruit trees were the most stubborn,” — you said with a small laugh, brushing your hand against the rough bark of one. — “I had to trim back so much of the dead wood to give the new growth a chance. But once they took root, they grew faster than I expected.”

“You understand their needs well,” — Viktor said, studying the branches laden with ripe fruit. His colorful eyes lingered on your hands as you gently turned one of the leaves, inspecting its vibrant green color. — “Each decision you make, every care you offer, it shapes them. Guides them.”

“I’m just following what feels right,” — you replied, glancing over your shoulder at him. — “Plants are a lot like people, I think. They need support, patience... someone to believe in them.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. — “It is not something I have considered before"

You smiled, your eyes softening. — “Sometimes all it takes is a little faith.”

Viktor walked beside you in silence for a moment, his cane tapping lightly against the mossy path. The quiet hum of life surrounded you. The garden felt alive in every sense of the word, and it struck him how starkly it contrasted with the barren ruins this dome had once been.

“Tell me,” — he said at last, his voice quiet but curious. — “what made you decide to take this on? When I showed you the empty space, it must have seemed... hopeless.” — He asked, he seemed to be testing you.

You paused, turning to face him. — “It wasn’t hopeless. Just waiting. Waiting for someone to give it a chance.” — Your gaze swept over the flourishing greenery, the vibrant flowers, the lush grass beneath your feet. — “When I first saw this place, I saw what it could become. I couldn’t just leave it as it was.”

Viktor’s lips curved into a faint smile, the corners of his mouth softening. — “It seems I chose well, then.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. — “You didn’t choose anything, Viktor. You built this space, and I volunteered. If anything, this garden chose me.”

“That,” — he said, stepping closer. — “is precisely what I mean.”

You blinked up at him, your breath catching slightly at the intensity of his gaze. The distance between you seemed to shrink, the space filled with the heady scent of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves. The air felt charged, as though the garden itself was holding its breath.

“This place thrives because of you,” — Viktor said, his glistening eyes fixed on yours. — “When I imagined this garden, I thought only of potential. Of how life might reclaim what was lost. But it is more than I could have envisioned because you saw not just what it could be, but what it should be"

Your heart skipped a beat at the quiet reverence in his tone. — “And you ... You gave it the chance to exist. Maybe... maybe we both brought it to life, together.”

He stepped even closer. You could see the subtle lines of strain around his eyes, the weight he carried in every step, but here, surrounded by the haven you’d built together, he seemed lighter somehow. — “Together,” — he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue with quiet certainty.

A breeze stirred the air. The moment felt suspended in time, the sounds of Zaun’s chaos beyond the dome fading into nothingness.

“You’ve been coming here more often,” you ventured, your voice gentle. — “Why?”

Viktor’s gaze dropped for a moment as though gathering his thoughts, his fingers tightening slightly around the head of his cane. When his kaleidoscopic eyes met yours again, there was a softness to them that made your chest ache. “Because,” — he began quietly, — “it is here that I feel closest to what I am searching for. Peace. Growth. Beauty.” He paused, his voice lowering. — “You.”

The words hit you like a quiet storm, their honesty stealing the breath from your lungs. The space between you felt heavy, charged with unspoken tension. The hum of the garden, the soft rustle of leaves, all of it blurred into the background as Viktor’s focus remained solely on you.

“You mean that?” — you asked, your voice barely audible.

“I do,” — he said without hesitation.

His words unraveled something in you, a tether you hadn’t realized was holding you back. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand finding his where it rested on the cane. His fingers curled around yours instinctively, the calluses of his palm a sharp contrast to the softness of your touch.

His hand came up slowly, brushing against your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw with a tenderness that made your knees weak. You leaned into the touch, your heart thundering in your chest.

“I should not,” — he murmured, his voice trembling with restraint. — “But I cannot seem to stay away.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with tension. Then in a blink of a eye, Viktor leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both hesitant and searing. His touch was searching, as though he was afraid you might slip away.

But you did the contrary, you melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. His cane fell to the ground with a soft thud, forgotten, as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, and the world seemed to dissolve into the quiet intimacy of the moment.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. His voice was a hoarse whisper. — “I have never felt this before.”

You brushed a strand of hair from his face. — “Then let’s not overthink it. Let’s just... be.” — Thank you for requesting it! Feel free to send more fic ideas !

[myzetauniverse]

This is exactly how things were with me! You know you are a whumper since childhood. Later you try not to show that you LOVE episodes or moments when your fav is injured/crying/suffering. Because c'mon, that would be weird! You think you are the only one who is so weird... Yes, imagining I am getting whump before going to sleep - also there since childhood. First just reading ffs, looking around. And...whoaaaaa! You realize there are tons of people who feel the same way! So you are not weird anymore! And then you finally dare and write your first fic. Congratulations! At that very moment all the fears and obstacles fall. You probably do not share it with your family or friends, let alone colleagues at work, but you become a part of quite LARGE community online. <3<3<3

[hoesluvjude]

Future Plans || jude bellingham

Word count : 1k

Genre: fluff

Author's note:Enjoy;)

Masterlist

The couch was soft, the room dimly lit. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, a testament to the candle Jude had lit earlier. You’d spent the better part of the evening watching an old movie, but now, the TV was off, and the room was silent save for the occasional hum of traffic outside.

Jude was sprawled out comfortably, his legs stretched across the couch. You were draped over him, your head tucked under his chin, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arms were wrapped around you, one hand lazily tracing circles on your back while the other rested on your hip. He always had this way of holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"You know," Jude began, a teasing edge in his voice, "I was thinking we should have ten kids."

You burst out laughing, the sound filling the quiet room. “Ten? Are you out of your mind?”

He grinned, clearly amused by your reaction. “Why not? Think about it—a whole football team! We could have family tournaments. And maybe an extra kid for the bench, just in case.”

You pushed yourself up slightly, giving him a mock-serious look. “Jude, do you have any idea how much chaos ten kids would be? The noise? The mess? The grocery bill?”

He chuckled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Okay, fine. Maybe not ten,” he said, but there was something in his tone that made you squint suspiciously at him.

“Wait,” you said slowly, “you’re not entirely joking, are you?”

Jude’s grin softened into something more thoughtful, and he shrugged, looking almost bashful. “Not really,” he admitted. “I mean, maybe not ten, but… I do love the idea of a big family. Coming home to a house full of laughter and love. Watching them grow up together, always having each other to lean on.”

You smiled at the thought, imagining a little one with Jude’s warm eyes and infectious smile. “They’d be lucky to have you as a dad,” you said softly.

He tilted your chin up with gentle fingers, his eyes locking onto yours. “And they’d be lucky to have you as a mom,” he said, his voice filled with so much conviction that it made your throat tighten.

He smiled at you, a little shy, and then tilted his head. “Okay, so maybe ten is a bit much. What about you? How many kids do you want?”

You leaned back against his chest, pretending to think. “Hmm… Two feels like a good number. But four could be fun, too. A nice mix of boys and girls, maybe.”

“Two or four?” Jude repeated, his hand resuming its gentle pattern on your back. “Okay, I could get on board with that. Two feels manageable, but four does sound kind of perfect, doesn’t it? A little pack of chaos, just enough to keep things exciting.”

You smiled at the thought, imagining a lively home filled with tiny feet running through the halls. “Yeah,” you said. “Two or four feels right. But let’s not lock anything in yet. We’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.”

Jude nodded, his expression softening as he gazed at you. “We’ll figure it all out together,” he said.

You fell into another comfortable silence, the kind that only happens when you’re with someone who feels like home. You could feel Jude’s chest rising and falling beneath you, the steady rhythm soothing in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“So,” Jude said after a moment, his voice teasing again, “what do you think about matching family pajamas for the holidays? Too much?”

“Way too much,” you said, laughing. But even as you teased him, you couldn’t help but picture it—a future filled with warmth and love and the kind of moments you cherish forever.

“You know,” Jude said eventually, a playful lilt returning to his voice, “we could always practice.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “You’re incorrigible.”

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “And yet, you’re still here.”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice softening. “I am.”

Jude’s expression turned tender again, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you always want to be.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in, and snuggled closer to him. In that moment, there was nowhere else you’d rather be. Our future might still be unwritten, but with Jude by your side, you knew it was going to be beautiful.

“Do you think we’ll ever get tired of this?” you murmured, your voice muffled against his chest.

Jude chuckled, a soft, musical sound that made your heart flutter. “Tired of what? You using me as your personal pillow?”

You pinched his side lightly, and he let out a playful yelp. “I meant us, silly. Being like this. Together.”

His hand paused on your back for a moment, and then he tightened his hold on you, pulling you impossibly closer. “Never,” he said firmly. “I could spend forever like this and still not have enough of you.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, and your breath caught in your throat. The way he looked at you—like you were his entire world—was enough to make your heart feel like it was going to burst. His eyes were soft and warm, his lips curved into a small, boyish smile.

“Forever, huh?” you teased, though your voice was soft, your own smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He nodded, his expression turning serious. “Yeah, forever. And after that, if I can.”

“What about marriage?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I think about it all the time,” he admitted. “Waking up next to you every day, calling you my wife, knowing that you’re mine and I’m yours forever. It’s... it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you buried your face in his chest to hide your smile. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, though your voice was thick with emotion.

He laughed again, the sound vibrating through you. “You love it,” he said confidently, and he wasn’t wrong.

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. You could feel his fingers start tracing patterns again, this time on your arm, and it made you shiver in the best way.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

I Put A Spell On You.

(Part Two)

Smoke and Rosetta got some makin’ up to do

It was a reflex for him to reach for his revolver. The sound of a withering floorboard caused Smokes to jump up from his sleep and grab it from the side table swiftly.

Click.

He was ready to aim and shoot down. Smokes’ unwavering gaze in that dimly-lit room cased out every dark corner and his ears listened for any signs of an intruder. He had good form and a lethal mental. He’d heard the sound again and instantly he aimed for the floor, finger on the trigger ready to pull.

A low meow followed by a pretty tabby-cat relaxed his tense muscles. Smokes lowered his weapon with ease before silently putting the revolver back on the night stand. His brandy-colored eyes tracked the movements of the cat between his legs, trying to get a feel of who this stranger was. Eventually, the sound of music on the jukebox and Rosetta’s soft snoring helped to steady his breathing and lower his pulse. Smokes reached to flick off the lamp light and carefully settled back into the rickety mattress. He took one look at Rosetta’s sleeping face before staring up at the ceiling.

Imagine rainfall, accompanied by the sound of a warm guitar slowly picking away at the layer of your sorrows, haunting, yet beautiful. A sense of serenity entered his mind, extinguishing the flames that burn his soul. For a moment, Smokes could feel, and think nothing. So brief, yet so long, he felt at ease. The melody carrying him across distant shores, feeling weightless in its entranced groove. He flew with the progression of the song, eyes closed, allowing his emotions to guide his path. Up and down his chest rose. Beyond the murky sky, the white glow of the moon shown through the window.

A dainty hand touched his chest. Smokes reached up to grasp it, rubbing it with his thumb. His bare dick against his thigh began to grow. Smokes brought her hand to his plump lips and kissed her there gently. The bed creaked beneath them. Smokes glanced down within the darkness, his eyes connecting with the sleepy, doe eyes of his Rosey. Her naked silhouette entranced him. The dip of her hip and the way her breasts hung from her chest aroused him to no end.

It was the way her long, deep wavy hair fell over the pillow. The pearls around her neck made her look ritzy and those red-tinged kissers made him salivate to taste her again. She was breathtaking. And Smokes didn’t lie when he meant she’s the most beautiful in N’awlins. Rosetta sat up and Smokes looked up into her heavenly face. Her fingertips danced across the ridges of muscle on his torso, her eyes never leaving his.

“Can’t sleep, daddy?” She says, voice soft and warm.

“That cat of yours woke me up out my sleep, gal…”

“Not you afraid of cats now…”

Rosetta giggled. Smokes chuckled slightly.

“I ain’t afraid of no fuckin’ cat…I’m just…been out there in some shit, baby. This the first time I had decent sleep.”

Rosetta looked towards Smokes’ revolver. Smoke followed her eyesight.

“I want one. My own gun.” Rosetta said.

“Oh?” Smokes sat up, “is that so?”

“Mhm. You can show me how to point that thang since you back home. Remember, you said you would…”

“I did.”

Rosetta sat up and Smokes situated her between his legs with her back against his chest. Grabbing the revolver, Smokes pointed it in a safe direction. A safe direction means that the gun is pointed in such a way that an accidental fire would not cause any harm. Rosetta watched with great interest. Smokes accessed the cylinder, emptying the bullets before clicking it back in place.

“Aight, Rosey…wrap your dominant hand ‘round the handle…use this hand for support.”

Arms outstretched, Smokes helped Rosetta point the revolver straight ahead at a wall covered with peeling paper.

“Straighten ya elbows, doll…no need to cock it, but steady ya breath…finger on the trigger…”

“It feels…heavy.”

“Hm. Imagine it with bullets.”

Smokes grazed Rosetta’s neck with his fluffy lips. The lingering smell of amber and sweat against his broad nose.

“That’s how you do it. I’ll take ya’ out to shoot soon…”

The urge to stuff his fat dick in her again created a tickling sensation just beneath his navel. Smokes felt at ease being with his woman again. He’d never leave her side again. Even if Stacks got in the way.

Smokes gave Rosey a wet sloppy kiss to her neck. She tilted her head and his thick tongue grazed over the rapid pulse in her neck and directly over that spot that got her wet every time. His thicker fingers were groping her breasts. Rosey released a breathy moan before looking back at Smokes, one hand on the back of his neck, forcing his lips against hers.

Their tongues moved in tandem, the squeaky springs of her not so sturdy bed surrounding them. Rosetta spun around and straddled his lap. Smokes kicked the sheets away from him, adjusting his large body to accommodate Rosetta. The wobbly, metal headboard banged against the wall when she flopped down into his lap.

One hand around her neck, Smokes tugged lightly, bringing Rosetta’s lips to his again. His other hand reached between her meaty thighs to feel the heat and dampness of her folds. Smokes growled against her lips. His dick was cast iron hard and read to fit inside her tight snatch again.

“Tilt ‘dem hips…atta, girl,” Smokes tapped her pussy with his big dick, “Time to fuck on this dick again, baby…”

“Yes, Papa…”

Rosetta wiggled her hips down onto Smokes thick pipe and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Smokes popped her on the ass hard, his way of telling her to get all the way down. Fully stuffed, Rosetta grabbed onto Smokes shoulders and with a whirl of her hips and a bounce she rode him on that rickety bed like it was her last time.

The fullness stretching her out made her shout Papa, Papa, Papa over and over. Smokes was too damn big for that bed but he made it work. He dug his heels into the lumpy mattress and with both hands he kept her cheeks spread while pumping up into her as she dropped down. Wet, skin slapping noises mixed with the way the bed jumped and creaked beneath them.

The steel of the revolver pressed against Rosetta’s knee each time she bounced. It was rough like she needed it. Deep dicking in her bedroom beneath the moonlight. Smokes slammed up in her so good Rosetta spread her thighs more to feel it stretch her. She craved the soreness, the way it tugged on her clit, the slight sting of his heavy balls slapping her ass.

Pop pop pop

Smack smack smack

Clap clap clap

“Damn, Rosey, gettin’ real whacky on that dick, fuck.”

Smokes grabbed her hips and helped her bounce on his length like a good little fuck doll. Her wavy hair shielded her eyes and those pretty titties swayed in his face.

“You hittin’ my spot, Big Daddy…you hittin’ it so good…make your pussy cum…make your bitch pussy cum…”

“Rosey–”

“Dig deeper, Papa–”

“Grip this dick and wet it up with that sweet nectar!”

Rosetta choked his dick with her walls and her cum trickled down his dick and over his balls. Hand in her hair, Smokes slammed his lips against hers while thrusting deeper.

He needed her more.

Smokes put Rosetta on her back and her legs in the air. He dived back in that pussy with his toes planted against the mattress. Rosetta clawed his back up and they both watched it go in and out. Smokes savored her nipples with his lips and tongue, ignoring the hollow dents in the wall from the headboard.

He grabbed a foot and stuck her red–painted toes in his mouth. Rosetta was super soaker wet on that dick, creating a large stain beneath her ass.

“I just wanna eat you up and fuck you…”

Smokes stared down at that hairy pussy with her leg thrown over his shoulder. He released a breath that came out like the hiss of a locomotive. That shit looked beautiful. If he could paint a picture of the way his dick all big and long spread her open he would. The sweat and humidity in that room made it hard to breath. All he wanted to do was be in his woman. They’ll crack a window eventually.

Well, I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

You don't like good grindin', you ain't gotta bit of sense

It's been going on ever since the world commenced

If you don't like good grindin', ain't gotta bit of sense

‘Cause it's been going on, ever since the world commenced…

“That’s it, Big Daddy, cum all in your fat pussy…”

“Oh, yeah?”

Smokes folded Rosetta in half and pounded the fuck outta her. She furrowed her brows, chewed on that lip hard, and spread her pussy lips with those red nails like she wasn’t open enough already.

“Smokes! Yes! Don’t stop fucking me! Don’t stop fuckin’ your creamy pussy! Milk it, Daddy! Fill me up! Papa! That good hard dick!”

“Ahhhhhhhh–”

“Smoke…oooh…yes…yes…right there, daddy…don’t stop…ooooo shiiiit, daddy…fuuck….get it, da–DDY…”

Smokes gave Rosetta a heated glare and just like that he was filling her to the brim with his thick semen, painting her walls heavily. Dick slipping out, he painted her clit with more. Smokes rubbed his tip between her folds, eliciting a creamy noise. Their tired breaths mingled. Smokes slipped from the bed and stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

He ran a bath and took a piss. Rosetta perched her gorgeous frame against the doorway, body glistening from sweat and cum. She was a sight to behold. Smokes is a lucky man. A bar of Palmolive sat untouched on the edge of the claw foot tub. While Smokes shook the access urine from his dick, Rosetta opened a jar filled with lavender, rosemary, and chamomile herbs, sprinkling it into the tub.

It was big enough to fit the both of them. Smokes slipped in first and then Rosetta settled in front of him. They used a soap sponge to clean each other off thoroughly. This was serenity. Encased in her sweet embrace.

“I love you, Rosey.” He whispered.

“And I love you…”

——

The smell of bacon and butter wafted Rosetta’s nose that early morning. She sat up, messy hair in her face while she stretched her tired arms above her head. Smokes being gone told her that he was cooking up some breakfast. Rosetta threw her sheets back from her body and snatched a satin robe from a coat hanger next to her bed. Feet sliding into a pair of house shoes, she looked down and noticed deep scratches in the wood paneling.

She would need to cover that up with a rug or get someone to buffer that out. She didn’t want her mama to have a fit.

Rosetta made her way into the kitchen, the tea kettle whistling as she approached. Smokes moved about the small room with a blunt between his lips and his dick out and swangin. Rosetta admired his tight ass before her eyes swept over his muscular back. She could see that he was making bacon, buttered toast, eggs, and grits. Smokes sat the cast iron on the stove and looked back when he’d heard footsteps.

“Mornin’ sunshine…”

He pecked her lips.

“Smells real good in here,” Rosetta stole a slice of bacon, “I’m hungry from all that sex.”

“Gotta feed you then, huh?” Smokes winked at Rosetta.

Rosetta stole the blunt from his lips and took a hit.

She coughed slightly, Smokes chuckling.

“Careful wit’ that there, Rosey…”

She took another hit and blew smoke towards him to taunt him before sticking her tongue out. Smoke tapped her on the booty.

“Sit that pretty tail down. I’m a plate this food up.”

Rosetta settled in a dining chair. She noticed the news paper and fresh milk on the table. He must of gone to grab it. Rosetta grabbed the paper and opened it to read. She crossed one shapely leg over the other blunt between her fingers as she held the paper up.

“A train hijacking?” Rosetta announced with surprise.

Smokes glanced over at Rosetta while her brown eyes were glued to the paper. He packed her plate and walked over, placing it in front of her. Back at the stove, Smokes poured her a cup of tea.

“Jesus, killed everyone on board…”

“Gimme’ some neck…”

Rosetta tilted her lips towards Smokes and he stuck his tongue in her mouth. The grip she had on the paper slipped. Smokes snatched it from her grasp and placed it on the table with a loud slap.

“Eat, girl.”

Rosetta grabbed her fork but her eyes remained on Smokes. He could feel her staring while he situated himself across from her.

“Level with me, Smokes…you know ‘bout this?”

“Don’t know from nothing, gal. Eat.”

“I’ll eat when you talk to me.”

“Ain’t nothin to share, baby. Everything is copacetic…”

“Did Stacks do this?” Rosetta questioned.

Smokes’ fork clashed with the table. He gave Rosetta a pointed look of warning. Letting her know to drop it.

“Wasn’t Stacks. Wasn’t me. Wasn’t nobody to get all worked up over. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Smokes…I don’t want you gettin’ yourself in trouble. It’s enough that Phonzo wants you dead—”

“Phonzo punk ass already dead. Might as well call it what it is.”

Rosetta bit her tongue. She knew arguing wouldn’t get her the answers she needed. She didn’t want Smokes to return and get himself into deep shit. She knew he was more than capable of handling himself, but Rosetta needed him alive, especially if she planned to marry him and have his butterball babies.

They ate in silence, the food tasty. Smokes sensed that she wanted more, so he filled her plate up again and Rosetta thanked him with a small smile and a kiss. Smokes watched her eat while smoking his weed and when she finished he cleaned. Rosetta drank her tea with those smooth and thick ol’ gams teasing Smoke’s eyes.

As he scrubbed, Rosetta spread her legs in that chair and spread her lower lips with her fingers. Sweet pink graced his eyes. Smokes watched her stroke her clit. He was high and horny again. Dick stood out like a flag pole.

“You want daddy to eat that pussy…”

“Mhm,” Rosetta licked her plump lips.

Smokes dried his hands and marched over to Rosetta. He picked her up and walked her to the couch.

“Wait, not here—”

“This Miss. Doris’ good furniture,” Smokes laughed, not caring at all about the sofa, “Good thing it’s covered in plastic…”

Her legs parted like the Red Sea. Hips aching and inner thighs burning. Smokes wasted no time slurping on her pussy with a wet tongue and thick lips. Rosetta palmed the back of his head and mushed his face in it. He had a habit of being loud while eating pussy. She could feel herself creaming on his chin when he latched onto her clit to suck.

“Yes, oh, fuck, mmmm….”

Rosetta frowned her pretty face. She had a face that belonged in movies. A rare beauty. Smokes never took his eyes off of her, not even when she came in his mouth. He stuck his tongue so far up her pussy to catch it all. Her robe had spilled open, revealing that hot body to him again. Smokes reached up and rolled her nipples between his fingers while continuing to feast on her overflowing pussy.

Smokes popped his lips off her clit to stare down at his work, “you betta cum again,” He sucked again before stopping, “Cum in my mouth before I stuff you again,” He slurped her up again and Rosetta moaned out, “You know who this pussy belong to. Not Phonzo, not no other nigga…”

Rosetta had to pick her lip up to stop herself from drooling. Her eyes crossed as another orgasm rocked her body. She closed her thighs around Smokes head, unable to take the licks he was giving her.

“Got me ready to fuck again,” Smokes took it upon himself to bend Rosetta over the couch, “Bend that back…atta girl…daddy’s good girl,” Smokes spread her ass cheeks wide and grunted, “Shit, Rosey…”

He hunched his body and with the power of his hips he sank into that good twat. Rosetta rode his tip before he could even fit in. He popped her on the ass with his wide palm before thrusting up and deep. Already she was creaming on his dick. Smokes had her by the arms as he pounded.

Rosetta had that IT like no other. Pretty ass voice, pretty ass doll, perfect pussy, perfect face. Smokes watched her head loll back and forth from the momentous pounding he was giving her. That back arched and that ass jiggling. Her knees almost slipped from the sofa so Smokes had to fix her and put his hand in the middle of her back to keep her stationary.

“I’m a fuck a baby in you.”

Rosetta moaned and clenched his dick.

“Like that? Like when I tell you how I’m a get you pregnant? Like that, sweet baby? Make me a Daddy?”

“YES!”

“All wet on Big Daddy’s dick.”

“Oh, Jesus!” Rosetta yelped when his hand wrapped around her neck from the front, bucking those strong hips and slapping those big nuts against her clit.

Smokes growled deep and with two staggering strokes he came inside of her again. He abruptly turned Rosetta’s head and plunged his tongue into her mouth.

Crack!

Smokes slipped out of Rosey fast and stood tall. Rosetta turned onto her backside quickly, staring up at Smokes with wide eyes.

“Fuck was dat?”

Smokes moved with a brisk pace towards the window within the kitchen, he peered down past the small glass panel at his car.

“What is it, Elijah?”

Rosetta stood behind him with a worried look etched into her beautiful face. Smokes took deep breaths before exiting the kitchen, Rosetta on his heels. He entered her room and grabbed up his pants, uncaring that his underwear sat on the floor.

“Elijah!”

“Stay here…”

Smokes grabbed up his revolve and loaded it up.

Click.

He stormed out of Rosetta’s apartment and down the small staircase leading into the boutique. As he drew closer, his eyes became wild with anger. He unlocked the door and stormed out into the smelting heat with his gun raised. There, a brick lay at his feet. Smokes bent down to pick it up, his cognac eyes following a trail of broken glass until he came upon the shattered window of his Cadillac.

Some people gathered outside to see what all the fuss was about. Smokes peered at them, eyes accusatory and rageful. He knew it had to be someone from Phonzo’s crew. A cheap shot, but still…Smokes was furious. Chest puffed out, he tossed the brick and entered the shop. Locking it up tightly, Smokes turned to find Rosetta staring up at him with a fearful glance.

“They busted out your window…”

“Ain’t nothin’ I can get that patched up…”

Smokes grabbed Rosetta by the elbow, turning her back towards the stairs.

“Daddy gotta go handle some thangs…I want you to stay put and out the way—”

“I’m coming with you, Elijah—”

“No—”

“YES! Yes the fuck I am!”

Rosetta snatched her arm from his hold and stood firm as she glared down at him on the steps.

“I’m tagging along whether ya like it or not.”

Smokes clenched his jaw. Their eyes danced between each other before Rosetta turned her back at him, climbing up.

——

“Scotch…”

Smokes accepted his glass, adjusting Rosetta in his lap. He sat across from his twin, Stacks, the gold in his mouth gleaming. They were sitting in a bar, the sound of distant chatter and glass in the background. The smoke from the cigars they were smoking billowed out like a thick fog. Rosetta wore a chocolate–brown Blondell dress with pantyhose and embroidered T–Straps on her feet in gold. A cloche hat that had covered most of her hair and much of her face was a last minute accessory since she didn’t have time to fix her hair after sweating it all out fucking.

Smokes’ 8-panel hat sat over his own messy hair and he wore his button down shirt untidy with his white beater on display. Stacks looked dapper in his double-breasted mahogany suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Copper silk tie, and black and brown woven Oxford shoes complete the look. His fedora sat on the table next to him.

The Big Cheese took a sip of his own scotch.

“How was your night with that snow bunny?”

Stacks chuckled, “As good as yours was I’m sure, brother. Lay it on me…Phonzo askin’ to go war? Does he not know who he fuckin’ wit?”

“You know dat nigga stupid, Stacks,” He checks his dominoes, “I got word that he’ll want to meet up tonight. I’m not much for talkin’…”

“Hm,” Smokes puffed on his cigar before speaking, “You thinkin’ the corn field?”

“Dig a ditch or two,” Smokes threw out.

“I’ll get Monty on it.”

Rosetta listened to the twins discuss killing and burying Phonzo and whoever else in a corn field. She shivered within Smokes’ lap.

“How ya been, Rosey? Still singing?”

“Of course,” Rosetta smirked at Stacks, “Still gettin’ into trouble I see.”

“You mean your man here,” Stacks pointed towards Smokes, “He’s the trouble.”

“How so?”

“Go on and tell her how you was in Texas.”

Rosetta quirked an arched brow. Smokes shook his head.

“Takin’ his word over mine ain’t the way to go, baby.”

“Uh-huh.” Rosetta wasn’t fully convinced.

She grabbed Smokes’ glass and took a sip. Rosetta watched the twins play another round of dominoes and catch up before Stacks made his leave. He had to make sure things were in order before tonight. A jazz ballad played and Rosetta swayed her hips in Smokes’ lap. She could feel him poking and the thought of sliding up and down on that pole sent chills down her spine.

“Careful there, Tiger,” Rosetta lifted his chin with her finger, “I still gotta cook you dinner.”

“A meal before I bump off? My kinda lady…”

Josephine Baker–I Love My Baby started playing, her voice projecting in a way that emphasized a higher frequency, leading to a brighter, more nasal tone. Rosetta caressed Smokes’ handsome face while staring deeply into his eyes. She sang along to the words, husky breathy tone drawing him in.

Sometimes we quarrel and maybe we fight

But then we make up the following night

When we're together we're great company

I love my baby, my baby loves me

The spell she had on Smokes brought him to his knees before her. He stared at her with those bedroom eyes and a half smirk while she sang to him in his lap. That smoking hot chassis was enough to make him fuck her right there. Smoke tapped his foot and rocked his head while she serenaded him. Others in the bar watched with wonder while balancing liquor and ciggs.

When the song faded out, Rosetta gave Smokes a slow kiss. A wolf whistle echoed and Smokes removed his hat to shield them from view so he could tongue his woman down.

“If it’s a girl, I wanna name her Ella, after my mama…”

“That’s a beautiful name, Elijah.” Rosetta smiled against his lips.

“If it’s a boy,” Smokes took a sip of his scotch, “Emmett.”

Rosetta swatted his bicep with her dainty hand.

“What was that fa’?!” Smokes protested with a dimpled grin.

“I was thinkin’ the same thing!”

“That’s why you my woman…”

Smokes kissed on Rosetta’s neck causing her to giggle. They were both pleasantly faded.

“Is that Smokes?”

“Ida Mae…”

The curvy dame settled in front of them, dolled up and doused in perfume. The smell of Bergamot, Orange Blossom and Lemon burning Rosetta’s nose. Her back stiffened as she surveyed the woman with her sultry eyes and chandelier earrings. Her dark red lips quirked up into a flirty smile.

“When did you high tail back into Nola?”

“A day ago. Why’s you askin’?”

Ida Mae locked eyes with Rosetta for a second.

“Just missed ya’ that’s all. Stacks back too?”

“Ya’ know it.” Smokes replied, caressing Rosetta’s waist, “This is my woman, Rosetta. Rosey, this here is Ida Mae…”

“Pleasantries,” Ida Mae tilted her head in greeting.

Rosetta’s lips remained sealed.

“She owns that whore house in Storyville.”

“Is that so?”

Rosetta cut her eyes at Smokes.

“Yes, a good business if ya’ ask me. Selling pussy is on the up and up, especially these days. Got too much shit to stress about.”

Was he dipping in pussy she didn’t know about? Why the fuck would Ida do some disrespectful shit and flirt with her man in front of her? Smokes had some explaining to do.

“Well, just wanted to say hello. Good seeing ya’ Smokes…tell Stacks I said don’t be a stranger…”

“Will do, Ida.”

She walked away with a tantalizing sway of her hips.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” Rosetta cut to the quick.

“I ain’t fuck nobody else if that’s what ya’ asking.”

“You fuck Ida? Don’t lie to me Smokes…”

“Rosey, cut it out. Ida and Stacks used to fuck ‘round. Probably still do.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m no sappy bird I can tell. Prolly made a stop to that whore house before coming to me. Been writing Ida to keep that pussy ready—”

“Rosey, shut up.” Smokes said through gritted teeth.

“Shut up?” Rosetta kissed her teeth before pushing off of Smokes’ lap, “Go after her!”

Smokes narrowed his eyes at her.

“I ain’t lying to you, Rosetta.”

Rosetta stomped away towards the exit. Smokes followed after her, catching her before she could open the door. He walked with her in his grasp outside, the afternoon heat unbearable. Already he was sweating profusely. Smokes turned her around to face him. Rosetta pointed her gaze over his shoulder, refusing to look at him.

She could be so damn stubborn sometimes.

“I love you. Only you. You need to understand that and quick,” Smokes spoke angrily so close to Rosetta’s face his breath laced with liquor and a hint of chocolate and black pepper from his cigar wafted her nose.

Rosetta pouted. Smokes gripped her chin tight to make her look him in the eye. He needed her to know he was serious.

“Stop it, hear me?”

“Okay…”

She looked from his eyes to his lips.

“So damn hard–headed…”

He kissed her lips before popping her on the ass.

“I’m a drop you off at the shop, okay? I gotta get this window fixed.”

Smokes made sure Rosetta was settled in her seat before he got in. The drive was less than ten minutes. Smokes made sure she was situated, blowing her a kiss through the glass door of the shop before driving off.

Rosetta’s doe eyes followed Smokes’ retreating car.

She wanted to believe he was loyal to her and only her. He’d always been. Maybe it was her mother’s words making her feel insecure. Her mother hated Elijah. Rosetta planned to cook up a steak dinner for Smokes. Ready to get to it, she climbed the stairs and before she opened her door, she noticed a kitchen knife sticking out of the keyhole.

Rosetta gasped, hand covering her mouth. Fear consumed her as she stood there, staring between the crack of the door and into a pitch black abyss. It was eerily silent. Rosetta took a chance and pushed open the door. The light from the stairwell flooded the room. So far, as she peeked inside, she couldn’t see anyone.

Rosetta stepped over the threshold and grabbed the handle of the knife, tugging it to release. She held the knife out in front of her, hand shaking with nerves. Her glossy eyes bounced left and right. She fully stepped inside, frantically moving her hand along the wall until she felt the string of the lamp light. A pinch of relief flooded her veins when the room brightened.

That was all stripped from her just as fast when a gloved hand slipped over her mouth and the weight of a gun pressed into her hip.

——

Hope ya’ll enjoy part two 😏😌

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixt @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @princessxotwod @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER PT5 | MV1

an: AND WE'RE BACK!! WHO MISSED OUR FAVOURITE LITTLE FAMILY! can't wait to hear what you guys think of this part, i've loved being with them this week, this is a shorter chapter but i've got ideas for what might happen next! lmk if y'all wanna see anything in particular

wc: 3.2k

Theo was four when his parents welcomed his sister, and Max very nearly missed it, if not for Danny.

It had been a normal day at the garage, Max elbow-deep in an engine rebuild, grease staining his hands and his focus entirely on the task at hand. His phone, forgotten on the workbench, buzzed furiously with calls and messages. It wasn’t until Danny came barreling into the shop, panting like he’d just run a marathon, that Max looked up.

“Max! Man, what the hell are you doing?” Danny wheezed, clutching his knees.

Max straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “Uh, working? What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re dying.”

Danny shot him a glare, pointing accusingly at the phone vibrating incessantly on the workbench. “Your wife is trying to call you! She’s in labour, man! She’s having the baby!”

Max froze, the rag slipping from his fingers. “What?”

“She’s at the hospital! Her aunt’s with her, but you need to move! Now!”

Max’s heart lurched into overdrive. Without a word, he sprinted to the workbench, grabbed his phone, and bolted out the door. “Danny, lock up!” he shouted over his shoulder as he jumped onto his bike.

Danny shook his head, muttering, “You owe me for this one, man.”

Max arrived at the hospital in record time, still in his grease-stained shirt and boots. His wife was mid-contraction when he burst into the room, panting, his face a mixture of guilt and relief.

“You’re here,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing slightly before softening at his frazzled appearance.

“I’m here,” he confirmed, rushing to her side and taking her hand. “I’m sorry, angel. My phone was on silent—”

“Save it,” she hissed, squeezing his hand so tightly he thought his bones might break. “You’re here now. Just don’t let go.”

Max didn’t. Not for a second. Hours later, they welcomed a healthy baby girl into the world. Max cried as he held her for the first time, the tiny bundle swaddled in pink resting against his chest. He looked at his wife, her hair damp and her face radiant despite her exhaustion.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

Their daughter, Mary-Ann, came home a few days later to a little house with a white picket fence that they had purchased not long before her birth. It was a modest place, but it was theirs, filled with laughter, love, and the chaos that only a toddler and a newborn could bring.

Theo was adjusting to his new role as a big brother with enthusiasm and curiosity. He followed his parents around, always asking to hold the baby or show her his toys. “She likes dinosaurs, right?” he would ask, clutching his favourite plastic stegosaurus.

“She loves dinosaurs,” Max assured him, grinning as he ruffled Theo’s hair.

Max had seamlessly embraced fatherhood, splitting his time between the garage and his family. He spent his evenings teaching Theo how to kick a football in the back garden and his nights rocking Mary-Ann to sleep.

The house, with its picket fence and flowerbeds lovingly tended by his wife, was the picture of the life Max had never imagined for himself. Yet, here he was, living it and loving every moment.

The day of Mary-Ann’s baptism dawned clear and bright, the kind of perfect day that made everything feel just a little more magical. Their little family was dressed in their Sunday best, Theo proudly wearing a bowtie that his mother had wrestled him into after much negotiation, and Mary-Ann bundled in a delicate white christening gown.

They arrived at the church to find her aunt, Danny, and a few close friends waiting for them, just as they had for Theo’s baptism years ago. Her aunt immediately swooped in to coo over Mary-Ann, her face soft with affection.

“She’s the spitting image of you at this age,” her aunt said warmly, brushing a soft curl away from Mary-Ann’s forehead.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t inherit my teenage rebellion,” she joked, glancing at Max, who chuckled.

The service itself was intimate and beautiful. As the pastor spoke, Theo sat on Max’s lap, squirming occasionally but staying quiet enough to earn whispered praise from both his parents. When it came time for the baptism, Max and his wife stood together at the front of the church, Theo holding onto his mother’s hand while Max held Mary-Ann close.

The pastor asked Theo if he wanted to say anything, and the boy puffed out his chest importantly, his tiny voice ringing out through the quiet chapel. “We’re all gonna be... um... part of Chris-tain-ity now!”

There was a soft chuckle from the congregation, but Theo frowned, frustrated by his own mispronunciation. His brows knitted together, and before anyone could stop him, he muttered under his breath, “Damn it.”

Max’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at his son. “Where did you hear that, Theo?”

Without hesitation, Theo turned and pointed to Danny, who froze mid-grin. “Uncle Daddy says it all the time.”

The entire room dissolved into laughter, but Max’s expression darkened. “His name is Uncle Danny. Not Daddy,” he corrected firmly. He handed Mary-Ann to his wife with exaggerated care and then fixed Danny with a dangerous look. “Uncle Danny also has five seconds to run.”

Danny’s eyes widened as he stammered, “Now, hold on a second—”

“Five.”

Danny bolted toward the back of the church, nearly tripping over a pew. Max didn’t miss a beat, stepping around the altar and charging after him. Theo laughed hysterically as he watched his father chase Danny out the door, and his mother shook her head, trying to stifle her own giggles.

When Max returned a few minutes later, slightly winded but victorious, Danny trailing behind him with a sheepish grin, the ceremony continued. The pastor, who had been struggling to keep a straight face, resumed his blessing, and little Mary-Ann was baptised without further incident.

As they left the church, Theo clung to Max’s hand, his face lit with excitement. “Daddy, can I chase Uncle Danny next time?”

Max ruffled his hair, smirking. “Not until you’re faster than me, kid.”

The two of them loved the life they had built together and sometimes when Max woke up he had to pinch himself. Just under half a decade ago he was eating dry hotdogs and drinking stale beers in a rundown trailer. Now he was helping his wife. His wife. In the kitchen with his two kids. Not one, two. Max was a father and everyday he woke up he couldn’t really believe. it.

The smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafted through the house as she stood at the counter, carefully icing a tray of perfectly golden cupcakes. Mary-Ann was nestled in her baby chair nearby, happily chewing on a soft toy, and the kitchen felt like the warm, beating heart of their home.

Out in the garage, Max had Theo standing on a small step stool by the workbench, his tiny hands gripping a wrench that was far too big for him. Max crouched beside him, guiding his hands as they worked on an old oil pan together. Theo giggled every time Max made a joke, his high-pitched laughter filling the air.

She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed a glass of iced tea, and wandered outside to watch her boys. Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms and smiled. “Teaching him how to change oil already? He’s four, Max.”

Max turned, his grease-streaked face lighting up when he saw her. “Hey, never too early to learn the basics, right, buddy?”

Theo nodded enthusiastically, smearing a streak of oil across his cheek as he waved the wrench triumphantly. “Mama, I’m helping!”

“I can see that,” she laughed, walking over and kissing the top of his messy hair.

As her gaze wandered around the garage, it landed on their old motorbike, tucked into the corner, its polished chrome gleaming even in the dim light. Her smile turned into a smirk, and she gestured toward it with her glass. “You know, you’re going to have to sell that death trap.”

Max froze mid-laugh, a look of horror crossing his face. “What? No way. We’ve got so many memories with that bike.”

“We have two kids now, Max.”

He frowned, standing up and crossing his arms. “But what if Theo wants it when he grows up?”

She raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip. “He’s not stepping a foot on that thing.”

Max threw his hands up in exaggerated protest. “Oh, so when it’s us, it’s fine, but when it’s Theo, it’s a problem?”

She grinned, completely unbothered. “Yup.”

Before he could argue further, Danny strolled into the garage, a familiar plastic container in hand. “Alright, where’s the good stuff? I heard there’s baking going on in that kitchen, and you know the deal—Danny gets dibs.”

She laughed, pointing toward the house. “I’ll bring you some in a second. Just made a fresh batch.”

As Danny leaned against the workbench, Max glanced at him, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, Danny, you wanna buy that death trap over there?”

Danny raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bike. “How much are we talking?”

Max grinned. “Fifty bucks.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

Max smirked, holding out a hand. “You buy it, but I still get to use it whenever I want.”

Danny laughed, shaking his head but reaching out to shake Max’s hand anyway. “You got yourself a deal, man.”

Max turned to her with a triumphant grin, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans. “See? It’s sold. Problem solved.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but smiling as she headed back into the house. “You two are impossible.”

As she disappeared into the kitchen, Max knelt back down beside Theo, who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Daddy, what’s a death trap?”

Max chuckled, ruffling his hair. “It’s something fun that your mom doesn’t like.”

From the kitchen, she called out, “I heard that!”

While she packed up some of her baked goods for Danny she too thought of how lucky she was. How all her prayers had been listened to. How she finally made it out of that house. How she was going to witness all her own kid’s life milestones with joy and love, not hatred and jealousy. 

The morning of Theo’s first day of school, the sunlight streamed through the windows as the family bustled to get ready. Theo stood proudly in his brand-new school uniform, his backpack almost as big as he was. Mary-Ann, her curls tied up in tiny pigtails, was toddling around in her nursery outfit, clutching her stuffed bunny like it was her lifeline.

Their mother, however, was a whirlwind of emotions. She double-checked Theo’s lunchbox for the third time and nearly forgot to zip Mary-Ann’s coat, all while blinking back tears.

“I can’t believe they’re both going,” she murmured, her voice trembling as she fixed Theo’s collar for the tenth time.

Max, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee, tried to hide his grin. “Sweetheart, they’re not moving out. It’s just school and nursery.”

She shot him a glare. “Don’t start with me today, Max.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Come here, buddy,” he said, crouching down to Theo’s level. “You ready for your big day?”

Theo nodded, his little chest puffed out. “I’m gonna make so many friends!”

Max ruffled his hair. “That’s my boy. And you,” he added, turning to Mary-Ann and lifting her into his arms. “You take care of those nursery teachers, alright? Show ‘em who’s boss.”

Mary-Ann giggled, planting a slobbery kiss on his cheek.

After a bittersweet drop-off that left her sniffling the entire car ride home, they returned to their now eerily quiet house. For the first time in years, it was just the two of them.

She walked into the living room, glanced at the toys still scattered around, and sighed heavily, sinking into the couch. “It’s too quiet.”

Max sat beside her, pulling her into his side. “I told you this morning was gonna hit you hard.”

She swatted his chest lightly. “It’s just… I’ve never been in the house without one of them here. It’s so empty.” She buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled. “What if they need me? What if Mary-Ann gets scared? Or Theo forgets his lunch?”

Max chuckled softly, rubbing her back. “Sweetheart, Theo’s got this. The kid’s practically running for class president. And Mary-Ann? She’s gonna have the nursery wrapped around her finger before lunch.”

She peeked at him from behind her hands, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You think so?”

“I know so.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple.

For a moment, she leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence soothe her. But the silence of the house pressed in again, making her sigh.

Max pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know, we’ve got the house all to ourselves now.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Max…”

He grinned, running his fingers lightly up her arm. “I’m just saying. We’ve got a whole empty house and a few hours of peace.”

Despite herself, she laughed, smacking his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m practical,” he countered, leaning closer. “We might never get this chance again, angel. Think about it.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks flushed. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting this right now.”

“I’m just trying to make the most of the quiet,” he teased, his hand slipping around her waist. “And besides, you’re way too stressed. Let me help you relax.”

She laughed despite herself, the weight of the morning momentarily forgotten as he kissed her neck, his stubble tickling her skin.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured, tilting her head to meet his lips, her heart finally feeling a little lighter.

And if she counted the exact weeks, that day was how she ended up pregnant with her third and final child.

Nine months later, their family grew again with the arrival of a boy they named Daniel. It was a tribute to Danny, their ever-reliable friend who had, over the years, become less like a buddy and more like an honorary member of the family.

Daniel came into the world with a loud cry and a shock of dark hair, immediately staking his place in the chaos of their household. Mary-Ann, now three and brimming with sass, had proudly declared herself the "boss" of her new baby brother. She often toddled around after him, dragging her favourite stuffed bunny in one hand and fussing over Daniel like a miniature mother.

Theo, at five, took his role as the eldest sibling very seriously. He loved showing off to Mary-Ann and anyone who’d listen about how he could hold his baby brother “without dropping him” (a feat Max closely supervised with a hovering hand). Theo also began peppering Max with endless questions about how cars worked, proudly announcing that he’d take over the garage one day.

The house was louder now, bursting with life and love in every corner. Daniel’s cries, Theo’s endless chatter, and Mary-Ann’s theatrical storytelling meant there was never a dull moment.

Max had learned to juggle bottles, bedtime stories, and car repairs, often collapsing into bed with her at the end of the day, marvelling at the whirlwind their life had become.

On quieter days—though “quiet” was a stretch—she’d watch Max play with the kids in their backyard. Mary-Ann would climb all over him, Theo would ask a million questions about the engine of a toy car, and baby Daniel would sit in his lap, chewing on whatever he could grab.

Sunday mornings had become a cherished tradition for her. Dressing Theo in his little button-up shirts, coaxing Mary-Ann into tights and her favourite frilly dress, and cradling baby Daniel in his soft onesie all felt like sacred rituals. She loved sharing her faith with her children, teaching them the hymns, and watching their faces light up during Sunday school.

But as much as she loved church, there was always a weight to bear. Her parents still attended the same church, their presence lingering like a spectre of the past. While most of the congregation had embraced her family with warmth, her parents had not. They’d sit on the far side of the pews, casting disapproving glares, and every so often, there were whispers—cutting, cruel words spread by those who believed her parents' version of events.

Still, she focused on her children. Theo beamed when he memorised Bible verses, Mary-Ann proudly showed off her colouring pages, and baby Daniel giggled at the choir. Sharing this part of her life with them felt like reclaiming something pure.

That afternoon, the church hosted a children’s Bible study, and she stayed to help with crafts and snacks while Max wrangled the baby. Daniel was perfectly content napping on his dad’s chest while Max sat in the corner, earning approving glances from the other parents for his patience and attentiveness.

As they packed up to leave, her father appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a storm cloud. His eyes were cold, his expression a mask of disdain. He walked past her, close enough that she could feel the venom in his whispered word:

"Whore."

The word cut through her like a knife. She froze, her heart pounding, the air sucked out of the room. Before she could even react, Max’s voice broke the moment.

"Angel, hold Daniel."

She turned to him, startled, as he handed her the baby with a calmness that belied the fire in his eyes. Then, without hesitation, Max spun on his heel and marched toward her father.

The sound of Max’s fist connecting with her father’s jaw was thunderous in the quiet room. Her father staggered back, clutching his face, as gasps rippled through the remaining churchgoers.

Max stood tall, his voice steady but cold. “Don’t you ever call my wife that again. You lost any right to speak to her the day you hurt her and abused your power. She’s a better person than you’ll ever be.”

Her father glared up at Max, but he didn’t dare rise. The weight of his disgrace was palpable as the onlookers murmured, their judgement no longer directed at her but at the man who had insulted his own daughter in a house of worship.

She stood rooted to the spot, Daniel cradled in her arms, her cheeks flushed. She could feel every eye in the room on her, but the only one that mattered was Max’s. He turned back to her, his expression softening, and strode toward her.

Max placed a gentle hand on her back, his touch grounding her. “Let’s go, angel,” he said quietly, his voice carrying none of the anger from moments before.

She nodded, unable to form words, and followed him out, their children close by. As they left the church, she glanced down at Theo and Mary-Ann, both wide-eyed but clutching each other’s hands tightly.

When they got to the car, she took a deep, shaky breath. “Max—”

He cut her off with a kiss to her temple. “Don’t. You don’t owe him anything. Not even your anger.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she leaned into him, Daniel squirming lightly in her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Max tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. “You and these kids are my family. No one, not even him, gets to treat you like that.”

taglist: @sinofwriting @le-le-lea @vanicogh @iamred-iamyellow @rayaskoalaland @spookyanamurdock @iimplicitt @hellowgoodbye @maximuminfluencerstarlight @lottalove4evelyn @piceous21 @ladscarlett @leclerc13 @linnygirl09 @labelledejourr @cmleitora @fortunapre @felicityforyou @isagrace22 @bookishnerd1132 @formulaal @mastermindbaby @daddyslittlevillain @inmynotes63 @litllefox @hollstopia

[iamgonnagetyouback]

AHHH THIS WAS AMAZING, VEE!!

"This is all Taylor Swift! Down Bad, But Daddy I Love Him, DRESS!?!" "I KNEW IT, I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!"

Pansy uncovering the playlist is the best Sherlock Holmes moment of our generation. I swear to Merlin, if I ever saw her running around screaming about my secret crush, I would simply pass away. 💀

"La dolce e la piccante, eh, I needed her book."

I LOVE HOW YOU MADE HIM ITALIAN CAUSE WOW IS HE THE CUTEST?! The way he just casually strolled into the most unhinged scene and then delivered tea hotter than the Black Lake in summer. Iconic behavior from start to finish.

"Dress by Taylor Swift? But Daddy I Love Him? Hellloooo???!!" "Matty you lucky son of a bitch!"

I CANNOT BREATHE. The fact that Theo knew the eras and made everyone else feel uncultured??? Someone protect this man’s music taste at all costs 😭.

"Say my name and everything just stops" He ripped his headphones out of his ears and sat straight up in bed.

I AM ON THE FLOOR. The tension, the realization, the OH-SHIT-SHE-LIKES-ME moment—I AM NOT OKAY.

I’m off to scream into my pillow and replay Dress while imagining this scene on repeat. 😭💕

the playlist - mattheo riddle

summary: enzo overhears something about you he shouldn't have and when he tells his friends, all hell breaks loose.

word count: 1.5k

soundtrack: dress - taylor swift

a/n: just some fun, sweet and silly banter with our favorite boys! i made enzo italian? not sure if that's a thing. and i definitely took some liberties with italian, so please forgive me!

warning: the group is lowkey mean to enzo about his english not being very good; this in no way reflects my personal views about that. anyone that even attempts to speak or learn more than one language (esp english!) is amazing ♡

"Alright, I've got another one"

Pansy's voice carried from your bedroom into the bathroom where you were curling your hair, getting ready for your girls' night. She was fiddling with your phone, playing music through your bluetooth speaker.

"Fuck, marry, kill: Blaise, Mattheo, Theo."

"What is the actual matter with you?" you responded, laughing. "I'm not answering that, none of them" you said resolutely about your best friends, even as your heart trilled in your chest at the very obvious answer you had in your head.

She laughed deeply, "Gods they would simply die. Any of them would be on their knees to marry you, I swear to Salazar... or fuck you for that matter."

"Pansy!!"

"Ok, ok, I give up."

"Anyway, how are things with you and Draco?" you asked, looking to quickly change the subject.

A heartbeat. No response.

"Pans?" you asked, your ears listening intently for her answer before you became worried. "You okay?" you asked, concerned as you carefully set down your curler and peered around the doorframe to find her with a shit-eating grin on her face, staring at your phone.

"Pansy..." you said cautiously as you slowly approached her.

"I just found a very interesting playlist on your phone. 'M.R.'? Gee, wonder what that could be?" she said slyly.

Your feet started moving quickly towards her. "Nonono, nope that's not what you think –"

Now she was on her feet, running away from you. "Oh, GIRL, ohhhhh my goddddssss!"

"Give it back!" you shouted, lunging for your phone as she dodged out of your grasp.

"This is all Taylor Swift! Down Bad, But Daddy I Love Him, DRESS!?! I KNEW IT, I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!!" she shouted as she scrambled on top of your bed and jumped up and down. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me, please, Mattheo is going to lose his mind!!!"

"Oh gods, Pans, please, please you cannot say anything, not to Draco, not to anyone."

Her eyes flicked from you to over your shoulder and your heart dropped into your stomach as you turned to see Lorenzo standing in your doorway.

"...Ciao bellas..." he said hesitantly, eyebrows raised as he took in the scene in front of him, Pansy, out of breath, standing on your bed, you clambering up beside her as you were both shouting at each other.

"Uhh, hey Enz, what's up?" you said as casually as possible as you climbed off your bed.

"I'm here to borrow your potions textbook, you said I could?–"

"–Yes, gods, yes I did" you said, scrambling to search for it from the pile on your desk before brandishing it at him.

"Thank you bella" he said as he left, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Fuck how much of that do you think he heard?" you said, looking up at Pansy.

"Babe, he barely speaks English, you're fine" she said nonchalantly. "But as for me, you have a lot of explaining to do."

Enzo made his way into the common room where the rest of his friends were gathered around the TV playing a video game as he plopped down onto the couch beside them.

"Where the hell have you been?" Draco asked without breaking his concentration on the screen.

"I was with la dolce e la piccante, eh, I needed her book" he said, using his affectionate nicknames for you (sweet) and Pansy (spicy). "Amico, she was talking about you" he said suggestively, his eyebrows wiggling.

"Yeah, what did she say?" Draco asked, his curiosity piqued.

"No, not you, la dolce, she was talking about Mattheo."

Mattheo had been sprawled in a large armchair with his hood over his head and eyes closed, but they fluttered open at that. Be cool he thought to himself, even as his heart raced in his chest. Enzo immediately registered his reaction and smirked.

"Care to share?" Theo grunted, jamming the buttons on his controller.

"She has music for you" Enzo said, his eyes never leaving Mattheo.

Mattheo's heartrate slowed.

"She sends me songs all the time, we have a shared playlist, Enz" he said, waving him off as he pulled his hood back up.

"No, no, it was not for sharing, it was a secret."

"You mean a surprise?" Blaise tried.

"No, no, la picante, she found it and la dolce was upset, it was a secret playlist."

Mattheo sat back up.

"A secret playlist... for me?" he asked.

"Yes!" Enzo said, happy to finally have gotten his attention and the message across.

Enzo's confirmation was met with some chuckles and ooohs and aahhs.

"Did you hear it?"

"What was on it?"

"I bet it was the same depressing alternative shit you two always listen to" Theo said.

"Shut the fuck up" Mattheo snapped back, narrowing his gaze at him.

"–It was Taylor Swift!" Enzo announced proudly, and four sets of eyes shifted to him, with three blank stares.

A pause.

"Ok, but like what era are we talking about here? Lover? Folklore? TPD?" Theo said and four sets of eyes shifted to him.

"What the fuck?"

"Bro, what are you talking about?"

"Am I supposed to know what any of this means?"

"Che cosa??"

"Taylor Swift is a fucking icon and anyone who says otherwise is either deaf or ignorant" Theo retorted before snapping his gaze back to Enzo, the video game in the background long forgotten now.

"Tell me exactly what you heard."

"Ehh, Down Bad, Daddy something something, and Dress" he said, nodding as he remembered each.

Theo's controller fell off his lap as he leaned forward intensely, eyes narrowed on Enzo, "You are fucking certain that's what you heard?"

"...Yes..?"

Theo let out a noise somewhere between a howl and a laugh.

"Oh my fucking gods Matty you lucky son of a bitch!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Mattheo asked. He was sitting upright now on the edge of his seat and he could feel his pulse in his neck as he'd watched the conversation going back and forth between Theo and Enzo like a fucking tennis match.

"Dress by Taylor Swift? But Daddy I Love Him? Hellloooo???!!" Theo was cackling now, falling back on the couch, his hands on his stomach.

And then panic ensued.

"Put it on! Someone pull it up!" Blaise shouted, scrambling to his feet in search of his phone.

"Gods" Draco muttered, his hands on his head as he tried to process the information as tears streamed down Theo's face with laughter, and maybe a small bit of bitter jealousy.

Enzo looked around with wide eyes at their reaction, somehow more dramatic than the girls'.

"No!" Mattheo said finally, standing up and grabbing Blaise by the arm as he was frantically trying to find the songs. "All of you, just shut. the. fuck. up" he said firmly, his voice low and serious as he enunciated every word, causing each of them to stop what they were doing and look at him.

"This is bullshit, he doesn't even speak English" he continued harshly, gesturing halfheartedly to Enzo. "I'm not wasting my time with this shit, can we please just get back to the game?"

He sat down resolutely, picked a controller up off the floor and moved to restart their game.

The group exchanged quiet glances with one another before settling back into their places.

Mattheo had been able to project a semblance of controlled anger the rest of the night, despite the sideways glances he received, but on the inside, he felt like a kettle full of boiling water, ready to scream.

He was fuming that Enzo repeated what he'd heard in front of everyone, furious at the way Theo laughed and annoyed at everyone else's reactions. His life, his feelings, and especially his friendship with you were private; it was none of their godsdamn business.

He also didn't like the idea that Theo knew your music better than he did, music was something the two of you had always shared with each other... since when did you listen to Taylor Swift anyway? And why was her music such a big deal?

He was tossing and turning in bed now, playing and replaying the evening's events in his head until finally he reached for his headphones, shoving them in his ears as he grabbed his phone. He needed to know, needed to understand why Theo was making such a big deal out of it. Theo's voice echoed in his head: "Matty you lucky son of a bitch!" and excitement and jealousy stirred in his stomach in equal measures.

It doesn't mean anything he told himself, tampering his expectations. The last thing he wanted to do was get excited, like one song was going to change anything anyway.

Dress he typed - tapping play.

Decent beat he thought, she's got a nice voice...

And then he hit the bridge.

Say my name and everything just stops I don't want you like a best friend Only bought this dress so you could take it off

He had stopped breathing.

Everyone thinks that they know us But they don't know nothing about All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation My hands are shaking from holding back from you –

He ripped his headphones out of his ears and sat straight up in bed, his hand falling subconsciously to his beating chest as he tried to catch his breath. He swallowed. He blinked several times, trying to register what he'd just heard.

I don't want you like a best friend?

Well fuck he thought, me either.

T H E P L A Y L I S T

🏷️ tagging a few of my beautiful mutuals: @girllblogging777 @draco-dormiens @dracosbabygirl8 @leona-hawthorne @noble-serpent @sectumsempraaa @reys-letters