#but this has been stuck in my head for a while

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.4

Chapter Four: Everybody Wonders What It Would Be Like To Love You

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, Bullying, Physicological Bullying, Mean Girls,

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Heads up, there’s a bully in this chapter but dw, you got Pedro on your side hehe. Again, this is all fictional. To any Cecilia’s out there in irl, no hate to you girl, I don’t even know you LOL.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: gold rush by Taylor Swift

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PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING  

The hum of set life surrounded you like a familiar melody—the rhythmic chatter of crew members, the distant clatter of equipment being adjusted, the occasional burst of laughter from someone off-camera. You moved through it all with ease, exchanging quick words with a fellow PA as you double-checked the last-minute details before call time.  

You didn’t notice him watching you.  

Pedro sat in the makeup chair, already in costume, his eyes drifting away from the mirror as Coco worked her hands through his hair. His body was still, but his mind was somewhere else. Or rather—on someone else.  

It was the way you tilted your head as someone from production rattled off instructions, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration. The way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, nodding once before offering a soft, assured smile. You weren’t just hearing what they were saying—you were listening, absorbing every detail like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged.  

He felt something tighten in his chest.  

God, you made him feel strange.  

It was the words that stuck in his throat when you were near, the way his pulse stuttered for no damn reason. The way his thoughts—usually so steady, so controlled—felt unruly around you. It was dizzying. Unsettling.  

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this. Since he’d been caught so completely off guard by someone.  

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for you.  

In the crowd. In the moments between takes. In the quiet spaces where he thought maybe—just maybe—you were looking for him, too.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

Lunch break rolled around, bringing a much-needed lull in the day’s chaos. The crew scattered—some retreating to their trailers, others grabbing quick bites from catering, the energy shifting into something looser, more relaxed.  

Your phone buzzed just as you were sitting down at one of the outdoor tables, the screen lighting up with a message.  

Pedro: Wanna grab a bite later?  

You smiled to yourself, thumbs already moving across the screen.  

You: I do, but I kinda wanna hang with my friends for a bit too.  

His response came almost immediately.  

Pedro: Oh yeah, of course. Mind if I tag along?

You hesitated for half a second. Not because you didn’t want him there—but because you weren’t sure if he really wanted to be there.  

You: Are you sure? 

Pedro: Obviously.  

So that’s how Pedro Pascal ended up at lunch with you and your friends, settling into the group like he had always belonged there.  

He was easy to talk to, of course. He charmed his way through introductions, seamlessly jumping into conversations, laughing in all the right places, making everyone feel like they were the most interesting person in the room. But his attention always had a way of drifting back to you.  

The way you scrunched your nose as you tried to pick apart a joke someone had made. The way your eyes lit up as you talked about some old inside story with your friends. The way you were currently demolishing a cookie like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.  

Pedro noticed.  

He didn’t say anything, but he noticed.  

His lips twitched as you took another enthusiastic bite, completely unaware of his amusement.  

There were other things, too—subtle things. The brush of his knee against yours under the table, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The way his fingers would graze your wrist when he leaned in to say something, as if testing the waters. The way his eyes would flick to your lips when you spoke before quickly darting away, as if he hadn’t meant to.  

And then, of course, there was the teasing.  

"Did you even taste that cookie, or did you just inhale it?" Pedro mused, finally breaking his silence, amusement lacing his voice.  

You swallowed the last bite, leveling him with a mock glare. "It’s really good."  

He smirked. "Clearly."  

"Don’t judge me."  

"Never." The word came softer than expected, a little too sincere for just teasing. His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

Your heart stuttered.  

He looked away first, but not before you caught the slightest hint of pink creeping up the tips of his ears. It was such a small thing—barely there, really—but you noticed. And it made something warm unfurl in your chest.  

The conversation around the table carried on, your friends swapping stories and teasing each other between bites of food. Pedro chimed in here and there, laughing along, but every now and then, you felt his gaze flick back to you.  

You were hyper-aware of him now. The way his arm rested casually on the back of your chair, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel his warmth. The way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the table, his other hand occasionally brushing against yours as he reached for his drink.  

Then, he sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket, frowning slightly at the screen.  

"Ugh, my phone’s about to die."  

Without hesitation, you reached into your bag, pulling out your power bank and a charging cord. "Oh, no worries, here—use this."  

Pedro blinked, momentarily caught off guard.  

You handed it over without a second thought, already turning back to your food. But he didn’t move to plug his phone in right away. Instead, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression.  

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the charger, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.  

“You just carry this around with you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, something softer beneath the teasing edge.  

You shrugged, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “Yeah, of course. Never know when you might need it.”  

His lips quirked, but he didn’t say anything right away.  

Instead, he plugged in his phone, then glanced back at you, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t quite believe you.  

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.  

Pedro exhaled a small laugh, tucking the power bank into his lap like it was something precious. "Nothing. You’re just—" He paused, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, "—thoughtful."  

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.  

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "It’s just a charger, Pedro."  

"Yeah," he murmured, still watching you. "I know."  

But his expression said something else entirely.

You weren’t sure what to do with that look—the quiet weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to be memorizing you like you were something worth studying. So, instead of dwelling on it, you reached into your bag and pulled out your notepad and pen.

Doodling had always been second nature to you. Something to keep your hands busy while your mind wandered. While your friends continued chatting, their voices washing over you in waves, you let your pen glide over the paper in absentminded strokes.

Pedro, however, wasn’t nearly as distracted.

From the corner of his eye, he watched, his attention flicking between you and the small spirals and shapes forming beneath your fingers. It was mesmerizing in a way he didn’t expect. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when you concentrated. The way your pen tapped softly against the pad before committing to a new line.

He shifted in his seat, subtly angling himself so he could get a better look.

It wasn’t just mindless scribbles.

You were sketching. Really sketching.

A rough outline of the restaurant table, the glasses, the crumpled napkins. And just beside that, the faint beginnings of a face—strong jaw, slightly furrowed brows, lips curved at the edges as if they were on the verge of a smirk.

His lips.

Pedro’s throat tightened.

"That me?" he asked, voice pitched just low enough for only you to hear.

Your pen paused mid-stroke, and you glanced up at him, caught. He wasn’t teasing, not really. If anything, there was something almost—fond—about the way he was looking at you.

You shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "Maybe."

Pedro huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I didn’t know you could draw."

"It’s just something I do when I’m listening," you admitted, flipping the page like it was nothing.

But he didn’t think it was nothing.

He wanted to say something else, something lighthearted to keep you from looking so shy about it, but before he could, one of your friends called your name, pulling your attention away.

Pedro exhaled, leaning back in his seat, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

Thoughtful. Talented.

Yeah. He was absolutely in trouble.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The shift in the air was subtle at first, almost imperceptible.

But you felt it.

It was the way certain conversations would quiet just as you approached. The way people who had once been warm and welcoming now exchanged knowing glances when they thought you weren’t looking. The way whispers followed in your wake, hushed giggles that felt anything but good-natured.

And at the center of it all was Cecilia.

She was the kind of woman people noticed when she walked into a room—stunning, sharp-witted, and utterly ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted.

And for whatever reason, she had decided that you were a problem.

At first, it was small things. A pointed look. A lingering smirk. A brush of her shoulder against yours as she passed by.

But then, it escalated.

"Did you hear?" one of her friends whispered just loud enough as you walked by. "She totally forced her way onto this project. Some kind of nepotism thing, I bet."

"Ugh, so cringe," another voice giggled. "She acts all sweet, but like, we know the truth."

You gritted your teeth, kept your head down, and moved along.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was. Psychological warfare disguised as petty gossip. You’d seen it before, and you'd see it again.

The worst part?

You refused to let it get to you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Pedro noticed.

It started with the way you brushed things off too quickly, like you were trying not to care. The way your usual smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laugh—one of his new favorite sounds—had dulled just a fraction, too forced, too polite.

And Pedro wasn’t an idiot.

He saw the way Cecilia and her group slinked around set like vipers, the way their eyes always seemed to flick toward you before whispering behind manicured hands.

It pissed him off.

But when he asked about it, you just waved it away.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You shrugged, reaching for a prop clipboard. “Just tired. Long day.”

Pedro arched a brow. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He studied you for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re a terrible liar.”

That made you scoff. “I am fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “So, you’re totally cool with the whole… weird vibe around here lately?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

It was enough.

“Pedro,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care what they think, okay? It’s just… you know how some people are. They get bored.”

“They get mean,” he corrected.

You frowned, looking away.

He softened, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t suck.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the clipboard.

“It doesn’t suck,” you insisted. “Because I don’t care.”

Pedro’s stare was unwavering, but you held your ground.

Because if you admitted it did hurt—if you let yourself feel it—you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

And you weren’t going to let them win.

Pedro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. You don’t care," he murmured. "But if you ever do care… you’ll tell me, right?"

Something in your chest tightened at that.

You forced a small, teasing smile. “Wow, Pedro. That almost sounded like a serious conversation.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

And just like that, the tension cracked, relief flickering behind his gaze.

For now, he’d let you pretend you were fine.

But he’d also be watching.

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEEKEND…

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The next two days were a slow, grating kind of miserable.

It started with small things—so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you might have convinced yourself they were nothing. The way conversations would quiet just as you walked past, the barely-concealed laughter from across the room, the occasional, suspiciously misplaced item that had definitely been right where you left it.

It was the kind of thing that chipped away at you in small, insidious ways.

Like the way Cecilia and her friends would conveniently stand right where you needed to go, their backs turned but their voices just loud enough.

“I swear, some people just don’t belong here.”

You’d walk past without reacting, even as the words burrowed under your skin.

Or the way your neatly organized stack of call sheets had been mysteriously scattered all over the breakroom counter when you came back from a coffee run. No one claimed responsibility, but Cecilia had walked by, tossing you a slow, syrupy-sweet, “Oops, was that important?” before sauntering off.

You clenched your jaw. Breathed through it.

Not worth it.

But then there were the more deliberate moments.

Like the wardrobe rack incident.

You had been helping move costumes between trailers when Cecilia and one of her friends conveniently brushed past, sending a precariously hung dress tumbling to the ground.

“Oh no,” Cecilia pouted, pressing a hand to her chest with mock concern. “You should really be more careful.”

You bent to pick it up, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. The last thing you needed was to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you smoothed out the fabric and rehung it.

Then, there was lunch.

You had been balancing a plate of food in one hand, your phone in the other, when one of Cecilia’s friends accidentally knocked your elbow in passing.

It was a tiny movement. Just enough to send your fork clattering to the floor, just enough to make you hesitate—because was it intentional? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Careful,” the girl sing-songed over her shoulder, giggling as she caught up with Cecilia.

You let out a slow breath. Swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Not worth it.

So you kept your head up, kept moving, kept going. You told yourself that if you didn’t acknowledge it, if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it couldn’t touch you.

Right?

But it did.

Because by the time you got back to your trailer that night, you had to sit on the edge of your bed and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, breathing slow, measured breaths to keep yourself from crying.

Because it was working.

Because no matter how much you told yourself you were fine, no matter how much you smiled and laughed and acted unbothered, the cracks were starting to show.

You barely had a moment to yourself.  

Between running last-minute errands for production, keeping up with the crew’s rapid-fire instructions, and dodging the subtle but constant hostility radiating from Cecilia and her group, you were stretched thin.  

The exhaustion was creeping in—settling in the space between your ribs, behind your eyes, in the way your shoulders sat just a little tighter than usual.  

But you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  

So you pushed through, past the carefully calculated inconveniences. The way they always seemed to cut in front of you when you were in a hurry, the stolen side-eyes and smirks exchanged whenever you spoke in a group, the way your things somehow always ended up in different places than you’d left them.  

You pretended not to notice when Cecilia’s voice turned just a little too loud whenever she spoke to someone near you.  

"Oh my god, you know what I hate? When people think just anyone can belong in this industry. Like… babe, you’re only here because they needed extra hands. It’s cute, though."  

You told yourself not to react.  

Even when Daisy—who had been standing beside you, her grip tightening on her clipboard—made a noise that sounded a lot like she was about to launch herself across the room.  

“It’s whatever,” you had muttered, tugging her back before she could make a scene.  

Daisy had narrowed her eyes. “It’s not whatever. She’s being a bitch.”  

You had only sighed. “I know.”  

Omar wasn’t as easily convinced.  

The next morning, when you found him loitering near Cecilia’s usual coffee spot, arms crossed and expression unreadable, you had to physically drag him away before he did something stupid.  

“Do not get yourself in trouble over this.”  

“She’s messing with you,” he seethed. “I hate people like her.”  

“She’s not worth it,” you said, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded too thin, too tight.  

Omar wasn’t buying it. “Okay, but are you okay?”  

You hesitated. The truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.  

The worst part wasn’t the pettiness or the whispered insults—it was the fact that it was working. That somehow, in all the noise and nonsense, they had managed to make you feel small.  

But admitting that felt too much like defeat.  

So you forced a smile. “I’m fine.”  

Omar gave you a long, knowing look before muttering something under his breath and stalking off.  

That afternoon, as you sat on a bench outside the studio, your notebook balanced on your lap, you felt a shadow fall over you.  

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice was soft.  

You glanced up, startled. “Oh. Hey.”  

His brows knit together. “You okay?”  

You blinked. “What?”  

“You’ve been… different.” His voice was measured, careful. “Quieter.”  

You tried to play it off, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Long shoot days, you know how it is.”  

Pedro didn’t look convinced.  

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you with that steady, unreadable gaze of his. Like he was sifting through the words you weren’t saying, trying to make sense of them.  

Then, without another word, he sat down beside you.  

Close enough that his arm brushed against yours.  

You tensed, just slightly, before exhaling.  

Neither of you spoke for a moment.  

Then—  

“Can I see?” he asked, nodding toward your notebook.  

You hesitated.  

It was just mindless doodles—tiny flowers curling around the corners of the pages, half-finished sketches of set pieces, a rough outline of something that might have been Pedro’s profile if you hadn’t abandoned it halfway through.  

You felt a little embarrassed, but you handed it to him anyway.  

Pedro flipped through the pages, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “These are really good.”  

You rolled your eyes. “They’re just sketches.”  

“Still,” he murmured, fingers skimming over the paper. “They’re yours.”  

There was something about the way he said it—soft, sincere—that made your stomach tighten.  

For the first time in two days, something in you eased.  

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

And when Pedro leaned in, just slightly, warmth radiating from his shoulder where it rested against yours, you didn’t move away.

Pedro was still flipping through your sketches when a sharp, saccharine voice cut through the air.  

“Oh wow, there you are, Pedro. I was wondering when you’d finally come up for air.”  

Cecilia.  

You felt your whole body go rigid.  

Pedro barely glanced up, his fingers still tracing one of your sketches absentmindedly. “Hey.” His voice was flat, distracted.  

She took a step closer, her presence invasive in a way that made your skin prickle. “I was just telling the others how dedicated you are to your work. You know, always finding ways to get into character.” Her gaze flicked toward you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Even off set.”  

You swallowed hard.  

Your chest felt tight, exhaustion pressing against your ribs, making it harder to keep your expression neutral. You were already hanging by a thread, stretched too thin over the last two days, and Cecilia knew it.  

Pedro, still looking down at your notebook, gave a vague hum of acknowledgment, barely engaging. It wasn’t the reaction Cecilia had been hoping for, and you could see it. The way her expression twitched for half a second before smoothing over again.  

She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling. “It’s sweet, though. That you take the time to entertain people. I mean, it’s not like everyone gets that kind of attention from you.” She let out a light, airy laugh that made your stomach turn. “Guess it pays to be in the right place at the right time, huh?”  

The implication was clear.  

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react.  

But then—  

“Cecilia,” Pedro’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. His fingers tapped against the notebook, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing?”  

Cecilia blinked, all faux innocence. “What do you mean?”  

Pedro finally lifted his head, and when he met her gaze, something in his expression shifted—something sharp, something distinctly unimpressed.  

“I mean, what are you doing?” His voice was just as smooth as before, but there was weight behind it now. “Because if you’re here to talk about the shoot, you should probably be talking to the crew.”  

Cecilia’s smile faltered.  

It was subtle, but you caught it.  

She opened her mouth, probably to smooth things over, but Pedro was already looking back at you, tilting the notebook toward you slightly, as if she weren’t even standing there.  

“You should finish this one,” he murmured, tapping his finger against the half-finished sketch of his profile. “It’s really good.”  

You could feel Cecilia’s eyes burning into you, but Pedro wasn’t giving her anything to work with.  

Her lips parted, like she might try again, but then she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she let out a small, sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel and stalked off.  

The moment she was gone, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your hands gripping your notebook a little tighter.  

Pedro glanced over, brow furrowed. “You okay?”  

You nodded, even though your throat was tight. “I just…” A deep inhale. “I think I need a break.”  

Pedro studied you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached out, resting his hand over yours where it lay against the bench.  

Warm. Steady.  

Grounding.  

“Let’s take one, then,” he murmured.  

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into it.

The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain on the pavement as the last of the crew wrapped up for the day. You were exhausted, your body aching from hours on set, but when Pedro leaned in—voice low and warm—you felt something in you unwind.  

“Wanna grab dinner before heading back?”  

You blinked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Like… out-out?”  

His lips quirked into a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Out-out.”  

You hesitated, glancing around as crew members bustled past, some already heading toward the shuttle van waiting to take everyone back to the hotel. “But, like… what if people see me with you?”  

Pedro gave you a look. “So?”  

“So… you’re you,” you gestured vaguely at him, “and I’m just—”  

He cut you off with a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “Nope. We’re not doing that again. You’re you. And I wanna have dinner with you. End of discussion.”  

The finality in his tone made your stomach flip.  

You bit your lip, then nodded. “…Okay.”  

Pedro’s face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he bumped your shoulder lightly. “Good.”  

By the time you both made it to the shuttle van, most of the cast and crew were already piling in.  

Vanessa was the first to notice. She raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Ohhh, where are you two off to?”  

Before you could answer, Joseph leaned forward from his seat. “Are we witnessing a secret rendezvous?”  

Ebon chuckled, shaking his head. “A little late-night dinner date?”  

Coco, already buckled in, smirked knowingly. “Have funnnn,” she teased, dragging out the last syllable.  

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. Pedro, for his part, was completely unfazed, flashing them an easy smile as he opened the door for you. “Don’t wait up,” he called, earning a chorus of laughter and whistles from the others as he shut it behind you.  

The restaurant wasn’t far—a quiet little spot tucked away from the main streets. The walk there was peaceful, the city buzzing around you but never pressing in too close.  

Pedro, dressed down in a hoodie, jeans, a baseball cap, and his glasses, was trying his best to blend in. But even like this, effortlessly casual, he still had a presence. He still walked like he took up space, like the world had to move around him.  

The height difference was almost comical. You felt it every time he turned his head down to look at you, every time his arm brushed against yours.  

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.  

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. “What?”  

Pedro gave you a look, one that made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever act you thought you were pulling. “Cecilia.”  

Your stomach twisted.  

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal.”  

Pedro stopped walking.  

You took two more steps before realizing, turning back to find him standing there, arms crossed, brows drawn together in frustration.  

He looked at you, really looked at you. “Of course, it’s a big deal,” he said, voice quieter now but firm. “If it’s hurting you, it’s a big deal.”  

You swallowed.  

The weight of his concern settled over you, warm and heavy. No one had ever really said that before. That what you were feeling mattered. That you weren’t just overreacting.  

Something in your chest cracked open, just a little.  

“…I just don’t want to make a thing out of it,” you admitted, voice small.  

Pedro’s features softened. He stepped closer, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you, either.”  

A lump formed in your throat.  

And then, just as easily as he had turned serious, he pulled back, tilting his head toward the restaurant. “C’mon. Food first, then we plot Cecilia’s demise.”  

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.  

Pedro grinned, pleased with himself, before nudging your shoulder with his own.  

And as you walked the rest of the way, some of the weight on your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The restaurant was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way that made the rest of the world feel far away. Soft jazz hummed through the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional clinking of glasses. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile, barely sparing a glance at Pedro—either because she didn’t recognize him or, more likely, was being professional about it.  

Pedro let you choose the table, and you picked one near the window, a cozy little booth that felt tucked away from the rest of the diners. As you slid into your seat, Pedro pulled off his cap, running a hand through his messy curls before setting it down on the table.  

He looked… comfortable. Relaxed. And yet, there was still something unreadable in his expression as he watched you settle in.  

“You know,” he started, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’m kind of mad at you.”  

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”  

“Because,” he huffed, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for days, and the first time it actually happens, it’s because some Mean Girls knockoff has been making your life miserable.”  

You snorted. “So dramatic.”  

“I am dramatic,” he agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But seriously. I don’t like that it took this for me to get to steal you away.”  

There was something in the way he said it—lighthearted, sure, but laced with something else. Something quieter. More honest.  

Your stomach flipped.  

Before you could figure out how to respond, the waiter appeared, handing over menus. Pedro thanked him with a charming smile before glancing back at you. “What are you in the mood for?”  

You shrugged, scanning the options. “Something warm.”  

Pedro hummed. “Soup?”  

“Maybe.”  

“Or,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we get a huge plate of pasta and reenact Lady and the Tramp.”  

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not.”  

Pedro placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. That was a little too fast. Like you’ve thought about rejecting me before.”  

You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile threatening to break free. He made it so easy to forget the exhaustion pressing down on you, the weight of the last few days.  

The waiter came back, and you both placed your orders—him getting some kind of hearty stew, you settling on a creamy pasta dish. The conversation flowed as effortlessly as ever, touching on everything and nothing all at once.  

At some point, Pedro leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out beneath the table. His knee brushed against yours, but he didn’t move away. Neither did you.  

“So.” His voice was softer now, less teasing. “Cecilia.”  

You sighed, slumping slightly. “Can we not?”  

“We can,” Pedro allowed. “But I still hate it.”  

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, tracing the fabric between your fingers. “It’s not like she’s saying anything outright cruel. Just little things. Looks. Comments. Stuff that doesn’t sound like much but still…”  

Pedro’s jaw ticked. His fingers drummed absently against the table. “That’s how people like her work. They know how to make you feel like you’re imagining it.”  

You swallowed, looking down. “Yeah.”  

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then—  

“Do you want me to talk to her?”  

Your head snapped up. “What? No.”  

Pedro tilted his head, eyeing you. “Why not?”  

“Because,” you exhaled sharply, “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”  

His gaze softened, a flicker of something fond in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But I also know that you’re tired. And I hate seeing you like this.”  

Something in you wavered.  

Pedro sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just—God, I don’t get it. How could anyone not adore you?”  

Your breath hitched.  

The words were so sincere, so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying to be charming—just saying what was in his heart.  

Heat crept up your neck. You looked away, focusing on the flickering candle in the middle of the table. “You’re biased.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”  

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”  

Pedro grinned. “And yet, here you are. Having dinner with me.”  

“Unfortunately.”  

He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You wound me.”  

The waiter arrived with your food, and Pedro’s dramatic antics were temporarily forgotten as the delicious aroma filled the air. As you picked up your fork, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand—just for a second, just long enough to send a small shiver up your spine.  

“Hey,” he murmured.  

You glanced up, and for the first time all day, you felt seen.  

“Don’t let her get to you,” Pedro said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re worth so much more than whatever bullshit she’s trying to pull.”  

Something tightened in your chest.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro studied you for a moment, then smiled. “Good.”  

The weight on your shoulders didn’t disappear entirely, but it softened, melted into something manageable under the glow of candlelight and Pedro’s unwavering attention. You let yourself relax, let yourself exist in this small, intimate moment where it was just the two of you, where the laughter was easy and the warmth between you was something real, something steady.  

Pedro caught your gaze mid-conversation, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in just slightly. “There she is.”  

You blinked, tilting your head. “What?”  

“That smile,” he said simply. “Haven’t seen it in a while.”  

Heat bloomed in your chest, warm and unfamiliar, something delicate but deep. You rolled your eyes, but it lacked any real bite. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” Pedro teased, mirroring your words from earlier, “here you are.”  

You shook your head, lips twitching. “Unfortunate, really.”  

Pedro pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “Wow. First, I get turned down for Lady and the Tramp, and now this? My ego is in shambles.”  

You laughed, a real, unguarded sound, and he grinned like that was exactly what he was hoping for.  

The conversation stretched long into the night, ebbing and flowing between playful teasing and quiet sincerity. The kind of talk that felt effortless, that felt safe.  

Somewhere between the last bites of food and the soft hum of the restaurant around you, Pedro reached across the table, his fingers skimming yours. The touch was featherlight, a quiet question rather than a demand. You could have pulled away.  

But you didn’t.  

Instead, you let your fingers curl around his, grounding, steady.  

Pedro didn’t say anything—he just squeezed your hand, a silent promise, and you squeezed back.  

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the city with it. The restaurant door shut softly behind you, leaving you and Pedro standing beneath the glow of streetlights, his cap pulled low, his glasses perched on his nose.  

It should have felt different—stepping back into reality after the small bubble of warmth inside the restaurant. But somehow, it didn’t.  

Pedro rocked back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “Still okay?”  

You exhaled, watching as your breath curled into the night air. “Yeah,” you admitted, surprising yourself. “I think I am.”  

Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied.

It turns out Vanessa, Coco, Joseph and Ebon got dinner somewhere else in town away from the two of you and they were waiting already in the shuttle and as soon as you both stepped inside, the teasing started. “Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Vanessa sang, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Joseph smirked from his spot by the window, arms crossed over his chest. “How romantic was it, really? Scale of one to ten?”

Coco grinned. “I’m betting solid eight.” Ebon scoffed. “Nah, Pedro’s smooth—at least a nine.” Pedro sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys seriously have nothing better to do?” Vanessa waved a hand. “Nope. Now spill.” You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt as the van pulled away from the curb. “We ate dinner. Like normal people. And then we walked outside. Like normal people.” Coco squinted. “That’s exactly what someone who did kiss would say.” Pedro groaned, leaning his head back against the seat, while you fought the smile tugging at your lips. Joseph held out his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s be serious for a second. Was it cute at least?” You blinked at him. “Was what cute?” “The date—” “It wasn’t a date,” you and Pedro said at the same time. A pause.

Then Vanessa gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re already finishing each other’s sentences?” “Oh my God,” Pedro mumbled under his breath. The laughter rolled through the van, easy and infectious, and despite the relentless teasing, despite the way your face burned under their knowing looks, you couldn’t help but feel… good.

The knot in your chest—the one that had been coiled so tight these past few days—had loosened. Maybe not completely, but enough that breathing didn’t feel so hard. Pedro shifted beside you, turning his head so only you could hear him. “They’re never gonna let this go.” You sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” His shoulder brushed yours, a quiet reassurance, and when he spoke again, there was something soft in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?” You hesitated. Because truthfully, the weight of the past few days still sat heavy on your shoulders. Cecilia had made sure of that. The quiet digs, the passive-aggressive comments, the knowing smirks—it was a kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones. But right now, in the warmth of this moment, with Pedro looking at you like he actually cared about the answer, you found yourself saying— “I think I will be.” Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied. It was a small thing—just a simple gesture, barely more than a shift of his head. But somehow, it carried more weight than it should have, like he was silently saying I see you. I hear you. You swallowed. It was nice to have a friend. But then—was that all this was? You glanced at him again, at the way he was sat with you so easily, like he’d always been meant to be there. At the way he felt beside you, like a quiet anchor in the storm of the last few days.

End Notes:

I told you there would be drama O_O

Again, no hate to any girlie named Cecilia, everyone calm.

Don’t worry girlies… it will turn out fine, mostly… I think… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YA'LL SEEN THE TEASER TRAILER!?!?!? IM UNWELL AND DYING AND SO EXCITED AND I WANT TO MELT AND DIE VANESSA KIRBY YOU LUCKY WOMAN I WANNA KISS HIM TOO T^T

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy

[jiminomenon]

what if a colleague of karina starts taking interest on assistant! reader 😩😩

good question.

from my series: the devil wears prada

it started out as something harmless.

one of jimin’s colleagues—perhaps a fellow model, someone just as rich and well-connected as she was—took an interest in her assistant. in y/n. maybe it was because of the way she handled jimin’s impossible demands with a straight face, or the way she carried herself, always so composed, so unshaken by the chaos that surrounded jimin’s world. or maybe it was just because they found her attractive.

whatever the reason, it began subtly. lingering glances, offhand compliments, the occasional teasing remark whenever jimin wasn’t around.

“you know, jimin’s lucky to have you,” the model—let’s call him jaemin—said one evening at an industry event. y/n had been standing off to the side, watching over jimin’s things while she mingled with people far above her pay grade.

she glanced at him, slightly wary. “lucky?”

jaemin grinned, charming and effortless. “yeah. you put up with her. do you know how many people would’ve quit after the first month?”

y/n chuckled. “i try not to think about it.”

he tilted his head, studying her with open interest. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you outside of work. do you go to these things often?”

she shook her head. “only when i have to.”

“shame,” he mused. “i think you’d enjoy them more if you weren’t stuck babysitting.”

y/n huffed a laugh, glancing toward jimin, who was deep in conversation with a designer. “i don’t mind.”

jaemin raised a brow, amused. “really? she’s that good of a boss?”

y/n hesitated for a fraction of a second. “she has her moments.”

he smirked. “so that’s a no.”

before y/n could respond, a voice cut in.

“is there a problem?”

jimin.

her tone was neutral, but there was an edge to it—one that made jaemin’s smirk widen slightly, as if he had expected this. y/n straightened, suddenly feeling like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t, even though she had done nothing wrong.

“no problem,” jaemin said smoothly. “just getting to know your lovely assistant. you never introduce her to anyone, you know. it’s almost like you’re hiding her.”

jimin’s gaze flickered to y/n, unreadable. “she’s not here to socialize.”

jaemin chuckled. “right, right. just here to follow you around like a shadow.”

“exactly.” jimin’s smile was polite, but there was something sharp behind it. “if you’re done, i need her.”

jaemin held up his hands in surrender. “of course. wouldn’t want to get in your way.” he turned back to y/n, flashing her an easy grin. “see you around, y/n.

y/n gave him a small nod, unsure of what else to do.

as soon as he walked away, jimin grabbed her wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to pull her a step closer.

“don’t talk to him,” she said— well, demanded lowly.

y/n blinked. “what?”

“jaemin,” jimin responded, jaw tight. “don’t talk to him.”

y/n frowned. “why? he was just making conversation.”

jimin scoffed. “he was flirting with you.”

y/n stared at her. “so?”

jimin’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly before she let go, expression unreadable. “just don’t,” she muttered, before turning and walking away.

y/n watched her go, confusion swirling in her chest.

because that almost sounded like jealousy.

the thought was ridiculous. it had to be. jimin didn’t care about things like that. she didn’t care about her like that... right?

yet, jimin’s words echoed in her head. don’t talk to him. her fingers still tingled where jimin had gripped her wrist, and for a moment, she wondered if she should just let it go. maybe jimin was just in a mood again.

but then, jimin suddenly stopped a few feet away. without even turning around, she spoke.

“well?”

y/n blinked. “…well what?”

jimin turned, looking at her expectantly, like she was waiting for something obvious. “are you coming?”

y/n just stared at her. “do i have a choice?”

jimin raised a brow, unimpressed. “stay by my side.”

y/n huffed. “or what?”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “if i lose sight of you, you’re fired.”

y/n let out an exaggerated, dramatic eye roll. “oh, please.”

jimin only tilted her head, waiting.

y/n exhaled through her nose, reluctantly closing the distance between them, falling into step beside her.

jimin, satisfied, didn’t say anything more.

but the way she held herself, a little more at ease now that y/n was back where she belonged, didn’t go unnoticed.

[carmenberzattosgf]

i know you’ve written about carmy and consenual choking before (loved that btw oh my goodess) but i saw this thing on one of those character nsfw alphabets and i cant remember who’s it was for the life of me but they had a thing about carmy like wrapping his arm around readers neck from behind during boombayahing and its stuck in my head if you’re willing to write something with this (absolutely no pressure btw have a great day :)

Okay yes let’s talk about Carmy choking you with his bicep. I’m very passionate about this topic.

Fucking you from behind has never been Carmy’s favorite way to do it. He can’t see your pretty face, or see the way your mouth falls open when he hits that spot inside of you.

The first time the bicep choking thing happens, it’s completely on accident. Truly. It’s the rare time he has you face down on the bed, with a pillow under your hips to keep your propped up for him.

He’s just trying to get better leverage by wrapping his arm around your front to grab your shoulder. The thick muscle of his bicep flexes and presses against your throat, making a gasp leave your mouth.

Carmy practically freezes for a moment, before continuing the pace of his hips. He keeps his arm right where it is, letting his bicep rest against your neck. He then starts to squeeze his arm around your throat, just enough to make everything a little fuzzy.

Your reaction is instantaneous. Your back arches up against his thrusts, and you whimper desperately.

“Oh? You like that?” he asks with a teasing voice. He knew from the second you spasmed around him how good it felt for you. He keeps his pace constant, hitting deep inside of you. It’s becoming hard to think, let alone craft together words.

Your hand grips Carmy’s arm around your neck while you nod your head rapidly in response, but that’s not enough for him. “C’mon—‘M not squeezing that tight, tell me how much you like it,” he insists.

“Feels s’good—fuck, Bear,” you whine.

“Yeah? You like how strong I am? How I can have my way with you?” he murmurs. He places messy kisses all along your cheek before he speeds up his thrusts, practically making you see stars.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes—so strong. Always take such good care of me,” you choke out in a moan. He squeezes just a little bit tighter at your words, sending a euphoric feeling through your body.

“Know you’re close—can feel how close you are. Let go f’me, baby.” Those few words sent you right over the edge, legs shaking as your peak washed over you. Carmy loosens his grip on your neck, letting the blood rush back up to your head, heightening the feeling of your orgasm. It sends you right into a haze.

You can barely recognize the feeling of Carmen spilling into you moments later. You stay in the floaty haze for a few minutes, humming in response to Carmy’s soft voice checking on you as he cleans you up with a warm rag.

He finally pulls you onto his chest to settle down for the night, safe and sound in his arms.

So yeah after this whole ordeal you’re like obsessed with Carmy’s arms and he’s equally obsessed with fucking you from behind while choking you with his biceps.

His favorite way to do this is to have you bent over the kitchen counter…..

[balladofboothill]

Joe burrow x EMT

note : wrote this purely off kissing a tree with your car brownies and 10hrs of shitty sleep

warnings : brief talk of medical stuff, the q word, couple sex jokes and very short

Like any medical household, the q word is banned (quiet)

"Why the fuck is it so quiet here" Ja'marr comes busting in through the doorway, disturbing the much needed peace of the household, joe shushed him right away as the last time he said the q word he got a stuffed animal thrown his way, "we never speak of the q word here" Joe says quietly as Ja'marr gives him a look as if he has four heads.

Joe asks the strangest questions

"What happens if someone's dick snaps off during sex?" Joe asks, randomly at 4am, "uhhhhh, I don't know, why?" You ask, "dunno just wondering" Joe answered with this strange look in his eye, still slightly confused at why he's asking this, another time while eating dinner he asked what would happen if someone stuck a carrot in their eyes.

Med truck sex.

JK! But he did ask if that was possible while he was watching you load it. "Could you ride me on that stretcher?" Joe asks in a bland tone for the question he just asked. "Joe baby, great idea but I'd like to keep my job." You answered to him, clearly joking upset

Thinks it's the coolest thing that he now has a personal nurse for when he's sick

Man flu is the worst thing to ever happen to men, Joe is 100% down for the count, acting like he's gonna puke his lungs out, "nurse can you please give me some cough meds" Joe begged as best he could between the coughs, "yeah here." You said as you hand him the cough meds, "this isn't what I expected to be using my schooling for" you though to yourself, praying you don't get sick next

If his friends get injured while they're doing guy things he'll text you a picture and ask what to do

A text pings during your lunch break of a photo that Joe sent, it's of a pretty sizable open cut with a fishing hook stuck in it, Joe had taken a couple high school friends fishing at your family's pond earlier before your shift, texting back "don't remove the hook, cut the line and go to the ER", a couple hours later you receive a photo of the stitched up cut

any EMT is awful to watch football with

Watching a random college game after a long shift with Joe should have been relaxing until you get bored and start commentating the injuries that can happen, "during my first week I saw a player snap his entire latissimus dorsi" you commentate as Joe looks in slight horror

Thank you for reading :) please reblog to support writers!!<3

[pomefioredove]

can i order a sugar cookie, #18, with frosting and dry fruit please 💕💕 love your work

coughs weakly

order #18, sugar with frosting, dry fruit

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ intent to bite

summary: a miscommunication leads to sharing a small bed with lilia tropes: only one bed, first kiss characters: lilia additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, who is an adult, a lil suggestive

"Told you this was a bad idea," Grim mumbles.

"Why am I stuck with Sebek, anyway?! I should be with my hench-human!"

You hold a finger to your lips. So much for hoping Grim would mind his manners on this trip.

"We've been over this," Silver says, carrying a six or seven bags inside the house. "Malleus will take the first guest room, Lilia and the Prefect will take the second, because it has two beds. Sebek and I are sleeping in the lounge, where there's a dog bed for you."

"I'm no dog!"

"That's not-" Silver sighs, looking to you for help. You have nothing.

Then, there's breath on your neck and a voice in your ear. "Oh, don't look so glum. It'll be a fine bonding experience for you boys!"

You jolt, and Lilia giggles into your ear, the airy, cheerful sound almost as teasing as the prank.

Grim sighs. "I bet Sebek snores like a lawn mower..."

"And you don't?" you mutter, much to Lilia's delight.

"Khee hee. Personally, I'm tickled by this! The Zigvolt family is as welcoming as ever. Oh, Malleus, do you need help with that?"

The smaller fae leaves to hold the door open for Malleus, while Grim repeats "tickled??" in a grumble. Silver sighs again.

"It's been a long journey. We'll all feel better once we've slept,"

"This can't be right,"

You stand in the narrow doorway, overnight bag in hand. The guest room is dark, but you can still feel how small it is. There's no way two people can fit in here.

Lilia peers over your shoulder. "What's- ah. I see,"

Your eyes adjust to the darkness. There's only one. There's only one bed.

"Now, this is unfortunate. Our rooms must have been mixed up. And Malleus has already retired, poor thing..."

You look at him. "What are we going to do?"

"Do? Why, sleep, of course,"

"Where?"

Lilia smiles and pats your head, as if you were an adorable kitty cat rather than a very tired and disgruntled adult after a full day of travel.

"In bed, my dear. Unless you were planning on taking the bath,"

He slips under your arm and into the room, tossing his bag on the floor with no regard or interest for the clothes and trinkets that spill from it.

You follow, putting your own things away as he makes himself comfortable on the bed. "Well?"

"...You can't honestly act as if this is normal,"

Lilia giggles. "What are you so afraid of? I'm not going to eat you,"

You listen, if only a little, sitting at the edge of the bed, as far from him as possible. Why is this making you so nervous?

"I'm just not used to it. That's all,"

Shit excuse. He can tell, too, if that smirk of his is any indication.

"Ah, I see. You think, hope, perhaps? that I'm going to make a move on you, as the kids say,"

Your eyes widen and you stumble over yourself, trying to come up with a rebuttal, an excuse, a lie, anything at all.

His smirk sharpens. Literally- his fangs dig into his lower lip, and he sticks his tongue out at you.

"If you're going to be this tense all night, you won't get any sleep. I'll tell you what-" he says, sitting up. "I will graciously allow you one kiss to sate your curiosity. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Now that's just unfair. "That's- what makes you think I would-!"

You stumble some more, and he drinks in the sight of you, flustered and nervous and oh-so close to him.

Lilia lets you argue with yourself until you're spent.

"...Fine,"

He claps. "Very well. Come here, Prefect,"

You sigh, but cross the bed, anyway, feeling the soft, handmade quilt underhand. You can't believe you're going to do this in Sebek's house, of all places...

Curse this fae.

You sit before him, far more vulnerable than you would have liked.

"Very good. But you could come a little closer, don't you think?"

Again, you listen. You sit on his lap, straddling his thighs, much to his delight.

"Better," he mumbles, perhaps more to himself than to you, because then his hand is holding the back of your head and his mouth is on yours.

Lilia doesn't give you much, and you know that's his intention. The kiss is much too chaste for him, and much too slow for you, but passion and pace were never a part of the deal.

You let it go.

And with some reluctance, you part from him, warm and jittery. That wasn't enough, and he knows it.

"You look like you have something you want to ask," Lilia says, his fingers brushing over your neck, feeling the beating of your heart in your pulse.

"...No," you lie.

He smirks again, baring his fangs as if warning you of his intent to bite.

"Khee hee. Don't worry, desire is nothing to be ashamed of. And we all have our little secrets... I, for example, may have asked Malleus to switch rooms with us."

Despite what Silver had said, you can't imagine sleeping now.

[bump1nthen1ght]

The Family Jewels (Pt. 1/4)

Pairing: M!Vampire!Father-In-Law x F!Reader x M!Vampire!Husband

Genre: Regency, Gothic, Dark, Yandere, Pining

Series Summary: Months of loveless married life would be taxing on any soul, especially when confined to the secluded country estate of your new family. But a blossoming connection with you reclusive father-in-law offers you comfort where there should be none, bringing respite to your otherwise dreadful nights. After months of disinterest, how will your husband react to such a development?

Series Warnings: Obsessive + Controlling Behavior, Fucked up Family Dynamics, Confinement, Misogyny, Future Non-Con, Degradation, Angst, Jealousy

Chapter Warnings: Slight hints of Obsessive Behavior, Mentions of Infidelity, Degradative Language

A/N: Whoo another series! Been a while since I did one of these, though this one is a bit shorter than others. As you can probably tell from the warnings this series is going to be a darker tone, nevertheless I hope y'all enjoy!

The night time on the estate is cool, even with the sun having just tucked under the horizon. The winds move quicker over the rolling hills, no trees to catch and rustle before it’s billowing across your dress, sending goosebumps across your skin. It’s enough to send anyone scurrying inside at the hint of darkness, but not you. Yes, you dread the cold and the way it pinches at your nose and fingertips, but anything is better than being stuck inside the house, alone with your thoughts. Not again.

“Ahh, yes. It should be ready now dear.”

And especially not when your father-in-law has promised a special treat this particular evening. One that he assured would make the cold worth it.

You tentatively walk toward the telescope, still nervous to touch its magnificence. The craftsmanship alone betrays an elegance far beyond your understanding, even after joining this house nearly a season ago. But your father-in-law is kind, gentle as he guides your eye to the glass, not as reprimanding as your former tutors or even governess’ were.

You peek into the glass, perfectly centered on the main event of tonight; The bright ‘evening star’, whose path perfectly crosses the night sky tonight.

“Is that-”

“It’s Venus, my dear.” A gloved hand settles on your shoulder, your father-in-law’s dulcet voice dancing across your inner ear. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

If he was anyone else, even your husband, the familiar touch would have shocked you out of your reverence. But after weeks of stargazing, nights spent in gentle conversation, you’ve learned that The Earl was just the affectionate type. Nothing untoward, of course, but the sort of casual touches and grazes one would expect of an exuberant father. You have a feeling he’d always wanted someone out here with him, and is simply too unpracticed to restrain himself.

“It is.” You gasp, still reeling on the fact you’re seeing a planet. An actual planet, other than Earth, rendered in such detail. “Oh, Sir, it’s incredible.”

“I knew you’d like it.” The Earl chuckles. “I remember the first time I saw her in such splendor. I was speechless.” The hand on your shoulder rubs its thumb across the planes of your back, never leaving the fabric. “And dear, you know you can call me Edric.”

His voice rings in your ears, an imperceptible shiver running down your spine as the Earl’s, Edric’s, voice grows subtly darker. You swallow a deep breath and convince yourself it’s from the excitement of seeing Venus herself. Pulling back from the telescope, you give him a small smile, unable to meet his deep, black eyes.

“O-of course, Sir-I mean, Edric.” Your head bobs, some emotion caught in your throat.

He is family now. It is sensible.

Your eyes dart around the courtyard, almost wishing there were some servants darting around, something to distract yourself with. But the staff always seems to disappear at the hint of night time. It was rather shocking to you at first, but after a while you assumed maybe the Earl was just diligent in making sure they have proper rest. It did make the house quite…eerie at night. Wandering the long halls, peering out at the endless darkness that was the rolling hills, it was what drew you to the night’s sky in the first place. What drew you and Edric together.

—

“Dear?”

Already on edge by the quiet and the dark, your father-in-law’s voice nearly scares you out of your skin. Jumping from your bench, you turn to him, ashamedly unprepared and ghoulish-looking.

“Earl Gulliver!” You drop into a deep curtsy, hoping your father-in-law doesn’t notice your frazzled appearance. “I w-was not expecting anyone. It is quite late.”

That is an understatement, to say the least. The last person you had expected to see this night was your reclusive father-in-law, a man you hadn’t exchanged a single word with since your wedding two months ago. It could’ve been the size of your newfound home, but you hadn’t seen him once since moving in. Not at meal times, not in the fabulously large library, and certainly not wandering the grounds. You assumed he kept odd hours, working hard on whatever it is that Earls do. Or maybe he enjoyed the lifestyle of your husband, was sleeping all day and then spending his nights out on the town, either at a tavern or a brothel or both.

“It is. I must admit, I was not expecting you either.” The Earl tightens the sides of his jacket, although the cold seems to be not affecting him at all. His face grows no flush; His fine, ivory cheekbones as brilliantly white as they are in the daytime. “If I may, what are you doing in the garden?”

You swallow your saliva, realizing that this is now a full conversation. Darn, your governess was right in saying you should have practiced the art a bit more. 

“I was looking at the stars, sir.” You fight off the urge to curtsy at the end of each sentence, something about The Earl’s regality instilling a need to appease. He was every bit the nobility that your husband wasn’t, his thick black hair combed neatly, even at this late of night. “I used to do it when I was younger, but this estate has a much b-better view.” Your fingers knot in your dress, a frustrating habit you never grew out of. “I quite like…the constellations.”

The Earl stands there, and for a second you wonder if you’re about to be scolded for such a girlish inclination. But the smile that curls up his face is kind, The Earl stepping into the garden with a sweep of his waistcoat. In no time he is by your side, and pointing up at the sky.

“My favorite is the Pleiades.” The Earls’ gloved fingers draw across the sky, expertly pointing out the star cluster. “It’s also known as the Seven-”

“-Sisters! Yes, it’s one of my favorites too!” The excitement bursts out of you before you think better, the first positive interaction in months getting to you. Like a child having sugar after rationing. But the shame is just as quick, the realization of another girlish outburst, causing you to curl in and a heat to spread across your cheeks. The only thing that bats it away is your father-in-laws smile, even wider than ebfore.

“Do you know the story of the sisters?” The Earl moves in closer, leaning down to meet your eye. Your father-in-law is of an impressive height, just like his son, and the way your neck cranes to look at him has a way of making you feel child-like. 

“My nursemaid used to tell me a version of it, though I am not sure how accurate it maye be.” You giggle, now drawing shapes in the fabric of your skirt. “I believed she liked to embellish.”

“Well, there are quite a many versions of it, from all over the globe. Perhaps there isn’t one true version, but many concurrent ones.” The Earl says with a gentle nod of his head. “Humanity has always had a way of crafting myths, of telling stories that make something as big as the world, make a little more sense.” 

“That's beautiful.” You say, looking back up at the constellation, the wonder apparent in your eyes. “Isn’t it strange to think that so many people, even centuries ago, were doing the same thing as us? Looking up at the stars and telling stories?” Your eyes stay locked on the great abyss, dancing from star to star, wondering of all the people before you.

The Earl, however, keeps his eyes on you.

“Indeed, it is beautiful.”

—

That was the start of your connection with your father-in-law, an unlikely friendship which has made me these past weeks bearable. You never knew you could look forward to night time like this, but sitting down and stargazing was the last bastion of comfort and companionship you had here. The Earl would point out different bodies, telling you myths and stories, some versions you had never even heard of. You would tell him your own tales, the ones your maids would make up, or your sisters dramatized, but he enjoyed them all the same. 

To think such a stoic and quiet man was hiding such a laugh, such a loving personality, was astonishing. In a way it baffles you how his son turned out as he did, although you admit you do not know your husband that well. Your wedding had been short and formal, your husband as eager to get it over with as he was to down another cup of foul-smelling wine. Your interaction with him so far had been just as short, your husband rather displeased in every iteration you saw him. Nothing like the gentle, attentive man you now know Edric to be.

“It is getting late now, dear.” The hand on your shoulder moves up, nearly pressing on the hem of your dress. Darn, this is your least favorite time of the night. “I think it is best you go to bed now.”

Just the thought puts a yawn into your mouth, has your eyes drooping. Edric must have a way of sensing these things, you think to yourself.

“You are right. Though I would love to keep watching.”

Edric chuckles, and brushes a stray hair behind your ear.

“The stars will be there tomorrow night too, dearest.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you lock eyes with Edric. Those deep, dark pools are as unfathomable as ever, the same abyss you could get lost in, just like the sky. 

He had never called you dearest before, only dear.

“Y-yes, you’re right.” You swallow another bout of troubling emotion, tearing your eyes away from The Earl’s carved visage. “Have a good night, Edric.”

“You as well, my dear.”

It takes everything in you to depart, to leave the little bubble of you two and head to your bedroom. With him, you are happy. With him, you are safe, and heading to your empty bed is just another reminder.

Of what, exactly?

That thought has you scurrying along. Perhaps you are more tired than you thought. It is the lack of sleep, surely.

The Earl watches as you leave, standing still.

Your night has ended, yet his has just begun.

—

Edric fears he is making a mistake.

Since this immortal life was thrust upon him, he’s always been deigned sentimental. Too sentimental, many others would chide, especially for a beast of the night. This longing he had was so human, so mortal, so unbecoming of a vampire of his station and age. He knew it well, aware of this irritating tendency of his to grow so attached.

He had done much to keep it down. When it had first come to a head, becoming unbearable for his immortal soul, he had compromised and found Caleb. It was the perfect middleground: Siring a fledgling was a perfectly natural, vampiric thing to do. He had made himself a companion, a young vampire to explore the world with, to help guide, he had made himself a son. That had been enough the past couple of decades.

But the boy had become such a brat.

Edric thought the conditions were perfectly tolerable; In order to live the lavish life they do, Caleb and him had to compromise. Rather than sink to the level of so many others, living in alleys and shadows with only the stolen goods on their back, to live like nobility one must have to act like nobility. If it meant marrying every once in a while, so be it. They could find a quiet girl with a proper name, whisk her away from her family with promises of wealth and titles, and enjoy a couple years of peaceful solitude before she died of a mysterious illness. Just a couple years of playing the part and they could have decades of a lavish country life, all with the veil of grief to cover up any of their eccentricities.

But that boy just couldn’t handle it, could he?

Edric thought he raised him better than this, raised him smarter than this. But no, Caleb couldn’t content himself with even one second of his immortal life not being rambunctious. He married the girl Edric selected, all right, yet spat in the name of matrimony at every chance. While Edric stayed at home, managing the estate and growing their profits, Caleb was in town acting every bit a rake: Whores, booze, gambling. Like a petulant child he was throwing a tantrum, appalled that his father would “dare” take away any of his new toys, the utter debauchery of this immortal life.

The worst part of it all is that…it didn’t seem to matter.

Edric honors himself in keeping up with the times, of seamlessly blending with the ever shifting ways of human society. But this new found apathey to men's behavior had thrown him off. It’s a known secret that his son is an adulterous, drink-crazed partier, and yet no one seems to care! All they do is cast the occasionally disapproving gaze and talk amongst themselves, but it hasn’t seemed to affect his son’s social standing at all. In fact, most of the gentlemen of the town seemed to like him even more, embracing his wild ways and straying from their own confinements of proper morality.

Edirc hated to say it, but back in his day, marriage meant something. Men had affairs sure, but either they were secretive or properly shamed once found out. None such flagrant displays were respected, they were spat upon, they were easy weaknesses to exploit. Back in his day, men were either honorable, or good enough at pretending to be honorable.

The real problem now is his new daughter-in-law. His sweet, kind daughter in law. Who loves his library, who loves the stars and the all encompassing universe of which you are only a small speck. Who loves romance and tragedy loves to talk to him, The Earl, of all people. A droll, ancient vampire with nothing better to do but haunt this old house in the countryside. It’s pathetic, just how besotten he has become in such a short time, with this miniscule thing that should be nothing more than a cog in the machine.

Everyone always said he was too sentimental, that he got attached too easily. More in love with the fruits of humanity than with endless possibilities of his own immortality. They all called him weak, and yet he was still here, and many of them were not. His son, for all his problems, was still here, ever indulgent in the base sins which clung to his old mortal life. 

Maybe it was time for him to indulge too.

Maybe it's time for the plan to change.

—

Caleb is lost.

He knows he’s on the property, for sure. But this new estate his master so gracefully bought for them was a goddamn labyrinth. Too many large halls that all look the same, the decorations so methodically similar to match current mortal’s tastes. It's confusing as is when he’s sober, even more so with a full belly of wine and whore’s blood.

It doesn’t help Caleb’s headache, an unfortunate side effect of his unexpected glutton. He had been sloppy tonight, shifting while caught in the raptures with the lady of the night, forced to drain her dry and ditch her in a river. No one would miss her, another forgettable face in a sea of brothels and wenches.

No, they aren’t called wenches anymore. At least, he doesn’t think. Devils, humans could be so confusing.

He stumbled into the first available room he sees, the door big and opulent enough to befit a fine bedchamber. It's probably a guest room, but whatever, he can crash for the day and-

Oh, this is not a guest room.

The sickly sweet smell of your blood alerts him immediately to your presence. If it hadn’t, then the site of you curled up on your bed, the moonlight shining down romantically on your sleeping self, would have. You look like a proper fairy tale princess, chest slowly rising up and down, your soft, long neck bare for all the terrible creatures that go bump in the night.

He lingers, he doesn’t know why. Walking along the side of your bed, pupils roving over your collarbone. His claws trace over the fine velvet of your bedding, luckily licked clean of the filthy blood of the whore and leaving no stains. Your head tosses in your sleep, but your face remains peaceful, completely unaware of your intruder.

You are a pretty thing, Caleb supposes. His creator could’ve done far worse in that department. You had a soft voice too, from what he remembered of the wedding. You had asked what he liked to do in his free time, gentle as a whisper amongst the bustling party going on around you. In another decade, Caleb myself might have pursued you, drawn in by your sweet face and even sweeter blood. He’d have seduced you, ravished you, and savored you like a fine wine.

But Caleb is older now, he isn’t the bumbling fool he was when first risen from the grave. He didn’t need you, didn’t need to have his prey fetched and prepared, like his creator insisted. It was an insult to his charm, to his prowess, that his master somehow couldn't understand.

He thought about killing you, the night of the wedding. Insisting on a witness for your consummation, then defiling you like an animal and ripping your throat out. That would show him that he wasn't a weak-willed child, who needs to play pretend. Who needs some perfectly demure debutante to flout about on his arm, who needs to shackle himself to the ridiculous norms of the bugs beneath them. Why would he crave any of that, when he had finally tasted true freedom?

You have no survival instinct, Caleb thinks as he draws a finger down your jaw. You barely even twitch, no fear from the cool nail that could slit your throat in a second. Just a pretty face, meant to be bought and sold. A warm hearted maiden that only exists in fairy tales.

You turn your head, unintentionally nuzzling into Caleb’s touch. Goosebumps pepper across the line of your jaw, but still you do not stir.

Utterly hopeless.

That's what you were. Hopeless. Useless. A pretty doll to decorate the hallways. It’s why Caleb didn’t even bother consummating your “union”, if one could even call it that. That would imply that he cared, that he wanted you.

Caleb stands at the foot at the bed, and watches the covers rise and fall with each slow breath. Watches your pupils flutter behind your eyelids, your toes curling when the covers pull up and reveal the bitter cold. Even in sleep, you’re just so human.

If he still was one, Caleb’s sure he would have fallen for you. Such a beautiful noble girl, the soft-hearted kind that would have been kind to a peasant farm boy like himself, saw past his poor station. You would've forced him to become this poor, besotted, love struck fool. He would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for even a scrap of your attention. He would’ve desired you like an addict does his drugs, like a prisoner does the sun.

He isn’t that anymore. That weak, romantic idiot dreaming of a noble life. Now he’s just….

Caleb's claws dig into the bedframe.

He takes what he wants now, no matter what anyone else says.

[warlocksoup]

LOOPED: MIYA ATSUMU

she's stuck in a loop: texting him late on a friday night, letting him into her bed, clinging to him, silently begging for him to stay, only for him to leave again.

masterlist

tags/warnings: friends with benefits, implied love triangle, angst, hooking up, unhappy ending, kinda softcore smut but no actual smut, hardly proofread, mdni

word count: 2.2k

an: thinking abt starting a gen taglist for works like this since im planning on pivoting away from writing a bunch of series and focusing more on things like this. idk. let me know what you think if you want i can't make you. also do i think this is my best writing? no but writing has been so hard lately im proud of myself for getting this out

Atsumu likes to hold her after they fuck. 

His bare leg is hooked over her hip, and his arm is thrown over her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. It’s hot under her sheets, and Astumu’s skin is coated in a thin layer of sweat. It’s humid and unbearable, but she bears it, holding onto him by his waist, because it’s the only time he’s like this with her. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he tucks her head under his chin. His eyes are closed, and he lets out a long, deep breath. “I needed that.” 

He thanks her like she did him a favor. Her arms go a bit tighter around his waist, and she presses her ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Yeah,” she mumbles, her cheek pressed flat against his skin. “Anytime.” 

Atsumu runs a hand over the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. His fingers continue, dragging slowly down the center of her spine. “Do you mind if I stay for a little while?” he asks, voice dropping to a raspy whisper that makes her feel so desperate that shame boils just under his touch. 

Her eyes close. “No,” she says, her lips brushing against his bare chest as she speaks. “You can stay for as long as you want.” 

It’s like this every week. She always expects it to be different, and it never is. Every week, when it feels like it’s been dark for too long and she’s alone and can’t sleep, she texts him after she promised herself she wouldn’t. Sometimes he responds and says he’ll be right over, sometimes he replies and says he can’t. Sometimes he shows up without saying anything at all. 

It’s been like this for a while. Long enough for her to feel embarrassed that she’s letting him drag her along like this. 

He hums, and she can feel vibrations throughout his chest. “You’re so soft,” he tells her, “it makes it hard to leave.” 

Atsumu will leave, though. Before the morning comes, he’ll be out the door without saying a word to her. It doesn’t seem very difficult, when he does go. He always peels her off of him like she’s some piece of dirty laundry and slinks out of the room when he thinks she’s fallen asleep. 

His breathing steadies like he’s slipping into sleep. She tilts her chin forward, and places a soft kiss on the center of his chest. She won’t be able to sleep. She’s too wired, it’s too hot, and her neck lays uncomfortably on top of the pillow. When the morning comes she’s going to be sore and tired, and it will be a strain to get anything done. 

Her eyes close, and she’s sure that Atsumu’s knocked out when she whispers, “You don’t have to leave, y’know.” 

He doesn’t say anything. She wasn’t expecting him to. She keeps her eyes closed, and thinks of his warmth, trying her best to avoid thoughts of it disappearing when the morning comes. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu stands at the edge of her bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. “I’m sorry to leave so soon,” he tells her, thumbs tucked under the waistband as they settle at the bottom of his hips. “I have to be at the gym so goddamn early tomorrow.” 

Her legs are crossed underneath the blanket and she sits upright, holding the pillow he usually sleeps on against her lap. “”S okay,” she tells him, watching as he grabs his hoodie off of the floor and throws it on over his head. “I’m not offended or anything.” 

“Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have come over tonight,” he confesses, and now she’s starting to feel a bit of a sting. “I just really needed to see you tonight.” 

She doesn’t know how to feel about this. She shuffles a bit, an indiscernible feeling settling uncomfortably over her skin. Atsumu doesn’t say things like that. She doesn’t know how to react. “Is something wrong?” 

Atsumu freezes, placing his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. His expression is screwed up, knotted. Something is wrong. She leans forward, like she’s expecting him to whisper it in her ear, like he’s about to profess something profound and close to his chest. But Atsumu just shakes his head, “Nah, it’s nothing,” he says. He pats the pockets of his sweatpants. “Have you seen my phone?” 

She’s disappointed, but she doesn’t know why. She leans back and reaches towards her nightstand, yanking her phone off the charger and dialing Atsumu’s number. She knows it by heart, and hopes that he doesn’t notice. It buzzes from under her sheets. 

He leaves half past midnight, forty minutes after he got there. She can’t sleep once he’s gone. She stays up, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, trying to wear down her mind, make it too tired to keep thinking of him. 

Sakusa texts her. Five minutes past one. “Was Atsumu at your place?” 

She ignores it. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu lies on his side, and draws patterns on her bare stomach with the tip of his finger. She doesn’t say anything, out of fear of making him stop. She watches him instead, watching his face as he stares down at her midriff. He has this slight smile on his face, and it makes her feel pleasantly uneasy.

“I like your stomach,” he tells her. “I think it’s my favorite part of you.” 

The smile that grows on her face must give her away. She’s grateful for how occupied he is with her skin. “You have a favorite part of me?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I like all of you,” Atsumu tells her. “But I do have favorites. Your stomach, your nose, your thighs, fuck, just so much of you,” he sighs, as if overwhelmed. “I mean, a man can only take so much.” 

She doesn’t think it’s fair, that she’s expected not to fall in love with him when he says things like that. So unabashedly, completely unprompted. And there is this small part of her that kind of resents him, for things like this, saying all of that when he’s going to leave her before the morning comes. But she likes it more than she could ever hate it. So she smiles, and she says, “I don’t think I could pick my favorite part of you,” and means it more than she should. 

Atsumu’s hand stops, and he looks up at her. He grins, and it makes her stomach flip. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

It’s fifteen minutes to midnight, and she’s pacing in her bedroom, trying not to look at her phone. She texted him twenty minutes ago, and she thinks if she keeps herself from looking at her phone, it’ll make him respond quicker. She can’t back her logic, but she’s well past the point of reason. 

He hadn’t talked to her all week. Which, she tries to tell herself, isn’t too weird. He’s busy. He’s a professional athlete. He has better things to do than entertain her and her whims, and what is she to him, really, besides a person to sleep with? They weren’t that close when they started hooking up, and it’s not like the fucking as brought them closer together. 

But still, her stomach knots up with nerves. She feels like something’s wrong. Maybe she gave him too much of herself. Maybe he doesn’t want as much of her as she’s willing to give. 

Her phone vibrates against her nightstand, and she nearly breaks a toe rushing to answer it. On her home screen is a notification from him. 

Can’t make it tonight. Sorry. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

She always tries to give Atsumu what he wants. He likes it when she begs, so she begs. She gets down on her knees and begs to please him. He likes the feeling of her on top of him, thighs squeezing on either side of his hips, so she climbs on top of him, not stopping when her thighs start to burn. He likes it wet, so it’s wet. His hair tugged, his neck nibbled on, his back scratched. Whatever he likes, she gives it to him. 

And he keeps making these small little grunts of pleasure and his eyes are fluttering, but Atsumu feels far away. Unimpressed with the way her body moves against his. His hands lay lazily on her hips, not gripping tightly on her flesh. He doesn’t whisper praise in her ear. He doesn’t bite down on his lip and tell her yes, he likes it like that, keep doing that. He’s quiet, withdrawn. 

She keeps trying to give him more, and more, desperation clawing on the inside of her chest. But Atsumu gives her nothing. He takes what she offers silently, and it starts to feel like he’s keeping his eyes closed to avoid looking at her. 

After, he doesn’t hold her. Atsumu lies on his back with his hands tucked under his head, staring at her ceiling. He doesn’t say anything. 

Her body feels like it’s burning. She feels humiliated. The silence is bad but she thinks talking might be worse. She doesn’t want him to leave but she doesn’t want him to stay if it’s going to be more of this. The air is so thick she thinks she might choke on it. 

Atsumu turns his head to look at her. “Have you talked to Omi recently?” 

The question shocks her so badly she turns her head to him, face scrunched up in confusion. “What?” 

He shrugs. “He hasn’t been talking to me lately. I was just wondering if he said anything to you.” 

Her head straightens out and she looks back up at the ceiling. “He texted me the other week and asked if you were here. I didn’t know if I should tell him or not, and it didn’t really seem like any of his business, so I just didn’t respond.” 

Atsumu hums. “I think he’s jealous of you.” 

“Do you want him to be?” she asks at once, and then regrets it. 

Atsumu doesn’t say anything to this. He gets quiet, and she has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from saying something else stupid. Somehow, the air gets heavier. 

“I’m sorry,” she says after a minute of silence. 

“It’s okay,” Atsumu says, and he doesn’t mean it. He leaves a minute later, and tells her it’s because he has an early practice, but she’s not stupid. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu presses her against her bedroom wall, and when she closes her eyes, all she can see is him and Sakusa, arm’s slung around each other’s shoulders in a post-victory celebration earlier that day. And the way Atsumu looked at him makes her feel rotten. It hurts to remember, and Atsumu pounding into her does little to distract from it. 

She’s the loser in this war, she thinks, arms around his shoulders and leg hooked over his hip, too disconnected from her body to feel anything. It doesn’t matter how many times Atsumu has crawled back into her bed and held her against his chest. It doesn’t matter how in love with him she is. It’s always Sakusa. It’ll always be Sakusa. 

He holds her tightly after, their legs tangled together and his cheek resting on the top of her head. His phone’s in his pocket and it keeps buzzing. Atumu ignores it, and she can’t stop herself from thinking that it’s him.

She swallows. Her throat feels dry. “Someone keeps texting you,” she says, because she wants him to acknowledge it. 

Atsumu inhales deeply. “Ignore it,” he says, “just lie with me.” 

She closes her eyes, and does as she’s told. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Can I come over tonight? 

He texted her first. He doesn’t usually, but he did. The notification popped up over a video the MSBY Black Jackals post-match. Meian’s giving a courtside interview, but just behind him, she can see Atsumu and Sakusa, shoulders squared and tensed, keeping a strict distance from each other as they exit the court. She can feel the chill through the screen of her phone. 

She doesn’t know what it is that holds the both of them back from each other. Maybe it’s her. Maybe Sakusa doesn’t realize that Atsumu would drop her immediately if Sakusa ever asked him to. 

She’s always known that he would, though. Whatever she has to offer doesn’t seem to compare to Sakusa. She’s just a temporary fix, really. Just something to hold Atsumu over until Sakusa realizes this. 

She taps on the notification, and her conversation with Atsumu pops up. For a second, she scrolls through it. Minimal talking, mostly texts from her, with late responses from him. She can see it there, how much Atsumu doesn’t care about her. It doesn’t matter if he asks to come over or tells her he loves her stomach or how hard it is for him to leave. He just doesn’t care about her. Not the way she cares about him. 

Her thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment, paused in contemplation, before she types out a quick, yeah, sure, and hits send without thinking anymore about it.

If Sakusa hasn’t figured it out yet, then she’s not about to help him. She’ll just keep giving and giving, until there’s nothing left to give.

[hypnobeauty]

a chance encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 9)

summary: a story about how you and hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. masterlist cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, slow burn, sexual tension, mutual masturbation. NSFW, mdni. a/n: smutty chapter! the amount of times i've rewritten this chapter is honestly embarassing. i tried my best not to be objectifying and respectful! enjoy xx as usual, comments are always welcome (now it’s for real, school is back—i’m a teacher—so it might take a while to update) taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia @antisocial-aina @googie-jeon @christinamadsen @deernat @vvlwvvy

part 9. slow burn, steady flame

things with hyun-ju had always been slow when it came to physical intimacy. she was never shy about holding you, kissing you, pulling you close—but whenever things started to shift into something more, she would hesitate, pull back. you never pushed. you knew she wanted you just as much as you wanted her, but desire alone wasn’t always enough. she had her boundaries, her insecurities, and you never wanted her to feel anything less than completely safe with you.

you had talked about it before—really talked about it, without sidestepping the details.

one night, curled up together on the couch, she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “can i tell you something?” she asked, her voice soft.

“of course,” you said, squeezing her hand.

she exhaled through her nose, like she was gathering the words before speaking. “i know i always stop when things get… heated,” she said, glancing at you briefly before looking away. “it’s not because i don’t want to. i do.”

“i know,” you murmured.

she squeezed your fingers, her grip firm, grounding herself. “it’s just… my body doesn’t always feel like mine. most days, i’m fine, but sometimes, it sneaks up on me.” she swallowed, searching for the right words. “i get stuck in my head. it’s like… i want you to touch me, but at the same time, i don’t.”

you nodded slowly, absorbing her words. “that makes sense.”

she blinked. “it does?”

“of course,” you said, threading your fingers through hers. “you’ve been through a lot, hyun-ju. your body has been through a lot. it makes sense that some days it feels like home, and some days it doesn’t.”

she let out a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving. “you always make it sound so easy.”

you shrugged. “it’s easy to be patient when i care about you.”

her grip on your hand tightened slightly. “i just… i haven’t been with anyone in a long time,” she admitted. “more than a year, actually.”

that caught your attention. “more than a year?”

hyun-ju nodded, shifting slightly. “yeah. i mean, i started transitioning a year ago, but even before that… i hadn’t done anything with my ex for a while.”

at the mention of her ex, you couldn’t stop the small twinge of jealousy that flared up. “your ex, huh?”

hyun-ju glanced at you, immediately catching your tone, and smirked. “you’re not jealous, are you?”

“no,” you said too quickly, narrowing your eyes. “i just didn’t know you had an ex.”

she let out a small laugh. “it’s not that interesting. it was over before i even started transitioning. she wasn’t a bad person or anything, just… we weren’t right for each other.”

you studied her for a moment. “did she—was she supportive?”

hyun-ju hesitated. “not really.”

that answer was enough for you to understand. you let out a breath, swinging your leg over her lap and sitting on it, so you could face her properly. “well, for the record, i’d like to formally apply for the position of ‘right person for hyun-ju.’ i think my credentials are pretty solid.”

she chuckled, shaking her head. “you’re such an idiot.”

“but a lovable idiot,” you pointed out, leaning towards her and giving her a light peck on her lips.

“the most lovable,” she admitted, brushing her nose on yours.

there was a moment of quiet, warm and safe. then she spoke again, softer this time. “i do want you,” she said. “i think about it. a lot. more than i should, probably.”

you smirked, “oh? how often is ‘more than you should’?”

she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “aein, don’t make me say it.”

you pried her hands away, laughing softly. “hey, i like knowing you think about me.”

hyun-ju exhaled, “ i just want to be ready. i want to feel good when it happens.”

you reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “then we’ll wait until you do. no rush.”

she searched your face for a second before sighing, a small, lopsided smile forming. “you’re going to combust, aren’t you?”

you groaned, dramatically flopping to the side. “hyun-ju, i’m dying here.”

she laughed, the sound light and teasing. “patience, aein.”

you turned your head toward her, smirking. “no promises.”

she rolled her eyes, but the way she squeezed your hand told you everything you needed to know. she kissed you then, slow and grateful, and you knew she believed you.

it was another two months before you saw her fully bare for the first time. by then, you had settled into the routine she had pulled you into—early mornings at the gym, where she trained like it was second nature and you, well, tried your best. exercise was a necessity for you, something you did for your health, but for hyun-ju, it was something more. it was control, it was care, it was a way to feel strong in a body that had once felt like a cage.

and maybe, just maybe, it was her way of slowly letting you see her.

that day, after an intense session, she invited you to her place instead of heading home separately. it was casual, something you’d done before, nothing out of the extraordinary.

the apartment door clicked shut behind you two, the sound muffled by the weight of your exhaustion. you’d just finished a grueling workout at the gym, bodies slick with sweat, muscles aching but alive with that post-exercise buzz. you wiped your brow with the back of your hand, peeling off your damp tank top and tossing it over your shoulder. the sports bra clung to your body, the fabric damp and cooling as you stood there, gulping down a glass of water.

you caught hyun-ju staring, her eyes lingering on your body with a mix of admiration and something else… something that made your skin prickle with anticipation.

“enjoying the view, aein?” you teased, setting the glass down on the counter. her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away.

“yes,” she admitted, blushing. her gaze was unwavering, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, like the static before a storm.

you stepped closer, closing the distance. your hands found her shoulders, then slid up to wrap around her neck. hyun-ju didn’t pull away, instead, she leaned into you, her body pressing against yours as you kissed her. it wasn’t a gentle kiss—it was hungry, desperate, like she’d been holding back for too long. 

“we’re all sweaty,” you said, breathless, when you two finally broke apart. you pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, feeling her sigh against you. “how about we clean up a little? a shower together might be nice.”

she bit her lower lip, her eyes flickering with a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “a shower… together?”

“mmhmm,” you murmured, my fingers tracing circles on her shoulder. “just being close, washing each other. nothing you’re not ready for. and if you feel uncomfortable at any point, we stop. promise.”

she hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “okay. i… you think i’d like that.”

this was it. after four months of dating, of stolen kisses and whispered promises, you were finally here. the thought made your stomach twist with a mix of excitement and nervousness. you wanted this—you wanted her—but you also knew how vulnerable she felt, how much this moment meant to both of us.the bathroom was softly lit, the warm glow of the overhead light making everything feel intimate and safe. you turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it was just right—warm, but not too hot. steam began to rise, clouding the mirror and filling the space with a comforting haze.

she stood in front of you, her back turned to your front and you could see she was fidgeting with her hands–a habit she had whenever she was anxious or nervous. you reached for the hem of her shirt, pausing to ask her. “can i?”

she hesitated, then nodded again, her breath catching as you slowly lifted the fabric over her head.

then, her back still turned to you, hyun-ju pulled her sports bra off. you couldn't help but admire her body, the muscles of her shoulders and arms defined from years of workouts. she hesitated for a moment before turning around, and when she did, your breath caught in your throat.

her small, perky breasts were perfect, her nipples soft and blush, inviting. her belly was toned, faint abs visible beneath her smooth skin. she moved slowly, almost nervously, as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her jogging pants and pulled them down. her legs were strong and smooth, her hips narrow but feminine. she stood there in nothing but her white cotton panties, and you could see the outline of her half hard cock, tucked to the right, the shape of her balls visible beneath the fabric.

your pulse quickened as you stepped out of your shorts, then your panties, leaving yourself completely naked in front of her. she glanced down at me, her eyes dark with desire, and you saw her cock twitch beneath her underwear.

she reached for the waistband of her panties, her hands trembling slightly, and you held your breath as she pulled them down. her cock bobbed free, and you couldn’t help but stare. it was beautiful—perfectly shaped, the right length and girth, a vein running along the top, the tip pink and sensitive-looking. the hair around it was light, kept trimmed short, and her balls were round and shapely.

you took a step back, mouth watering, your hands groping blindly for the shower door as you kept your eyes locked on hers. she didn’t look away either, her gaze burning into you.

“come, aein,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “join me.”

she hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward, her body trembling with anticipation. the shower was warm, the water cascading over us as you reached for her, pulling her close. you took hyun-ju's hand, leading her into the shower. the water cascaded over us, soothing, and you heard her let out a soft sigh as it hit her skin. you grabbed the bottle of body wash, squeezing a generous amount into your palm.

“turn around,” you said gently, and she obeyed, her back facing you. you started at her shoulders, your hands working the lather into her skin in slow, deliberate circles. she leaned into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as your fingers kneaded the tension from her muscles.

“that feels amazing,” hyun-ju murmured, her voice almost lost in the sound of the water.

you smiled, hands moving lower, tracing the curve of her spine. you washed her with care, taking time to explore every inch of her body, making sure she felt every touch, every caress. when you reached her hips, she tensed slightly, but you didn’t push, moving instead to her legs, kneading the muscles there until she relaxed again.

“your turn,” she said, turning around to face you. you handed her the body wash, and she took it, her hands trembling slightly as she squeezed some into her palm. she started at your shoulders, her touch tentative but growing more confident as she worked the lather into you skin. her hands moved slowly, deliberately, as if she were memorizing every curve, every dip of you body.

when she reached your breasts, she paused, her eyes flickering up to meet you. “can i…?”

“of course,” you whispered, your breath hitching as her hands cupped them, her thumbs brushing over your nipples. you let out a soft moan, head falling back as she explored the mounts, her touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

she leaned in, her lips capturing you in a hungry kiss, her hands still working their magic. you moaned into her mouth, your hands tangling in her hair as the water beat down on you, the steam making the air thick and heady.

when she pulled back, her eyes were dark with desire, her breathing ragged. “i want to touch you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “all of you.”

you nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “anything. always.”

hyun-ju's hands moved tentatively to your thighs, sliding up to your hips, and then she dropped one hand lower, her fingertips grazing you clit. you gasped into her mouth, the sensation sending a jolt through you. god, she was good at this. her touches were tentative at first, like she was learning the rhythm of your body, but as you moaned softly, she grew bolder.

“is this okay?” she whispered, her voice trembling with both nervousness and desire.

“yes,” you breathed, your hands moving to her shoulders, steadying yourself as her fingers began to circle you with more purpose. your head fell back, and you let out a breathy sigh, body responding eagerly to hyun-ju's touch. “just like that.”

hyun-ju's cheeks flushed at the praise, and you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. but even as she pleased you, her movements growing more confident, you could feel the tension in her body—the way she hesitated when you hand drifted lower, toward the part of her she still struggled to accept.

you stopped suddenly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. her eyes were wide, almost scared, and kissed her again, softly, reassuringly. “can i touch you?” you asked, your voice steady but gentle. “please tell me if it’s too much.”

hyun-ju swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she processed your words. for a moment, she looked like she might pull away, but then she nodded, her voice barely audible. “y-yes. i want you to.”

your heart swelled at her bravery, at the trust she was placing in you. you kissed her once more, a slow, tender press of my lips to hers, before letting your hand drift lower. your fingers grazed her length, and she shuddered, her hips twitching involuntarily. she was already hard, her cock straining against your palm, and you could feel the heat radiating from her.

“you’re so beautiful,” you murmured, fingers wrapping around her gently. hyun-ju let out a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering closed as you began to stroke her slowly, the soap making every movement smooth and slick. her hips bucked into your hand, and you could feel the tension in her body beginning to unravel, her uncertainty giving way to pleasure.

“oh god,” hyun-ju whimpered, her hands gripping your waist tightly as you worked her. her breathing grew ragged, her body trembling under my touch, and you could tell she was close. the way she responded to you—every gasp, every shiver—was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but moan as her fingers continued to tease you, the dual sensations pushing you both closer to the edge.

“that’s it, aein,” you coaxed, your voice low and husky. “let go for me.”

her eyes snapped open, locking onto you, and something in her expression shattered. her orgasm hit her hard, her body convulsing as she came, her release spilling over your hand. the sight of her unraveling, her face twisted in ecstasy, sent you over the edge as well. your own climax crashed over you in waves, your legs buckling as you cried out her name.

you clung to each other, both shaking and gasping for air, the water from the shower still cascading down around you. her forehead rested against you, and you could feel hyun-ju smiling—small and hesitant, but genuine.

“that was…” hyun-ju started, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words.

“perfect,” you finished for her, brushing her wet hair from her face. “you’re perfect.”

she blushed furiously, burying her face in the crook of your neck, and you laughed softly, holding her close. we stayed like that for a moment, just breathing each other in.

“ready to get out?” you asked softly, brushing her hair back from her face.

hyun-ju nodded, her eyes still glistening. “yeah. but first…” she leaned in, capturing my lips in a slow, tender kiss. “i love you,” she whispered into your mouth. “so much.”

“i love you too,” you murmured, heart overflowing with emotion. “always.”

you stepped out of the shower, the cool air hitting your skin and making you shiver. you grabbed two towels, wrapping one around her and the other around yourself. she leaned into you, her body warm and soft against mine, and you held her close, lips brushing against her temple.

“let’s get cozy,” you whispered, leading her back to the bedroom. she nodded, her hand in you, and you knew that no matter what, you were in this together.

[jgracie]

dating percy jackson ♡ headcanons (fem reader)

warnings scary quest in which percy almost dies | masterlist

Dating Percy is like dating your biggest fan, because he is. You are dating your biggest fan

It takes him a while to realise he likes you and that all the things he’d do for you aren’t just because you’re his friend, but once it finally clicks it's all he can think about 

From that moment, he becomes #1 loverboy

“Percy, what are you doing?” Annabeth asked, watching as Percy frantically sifted through his many blue t-shirts. Acknowledging her presence, Percy breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled two of them out of his closet and held them up next to his face. “Gods, Annabeth, I’m so glad you’re here! Now, I’m about to go see Y/N at the beach and I need you to tell me which compliments my eyes better: the teal or the aqua."

It's very endearing and he doesn’t even try to hide it! But of course you’re the only person who doesn’t notice, thinking he just really wants to be your friend, because Percy’s nice and friendly with everyone

He follows you around everywhere trying to find out more about you so he can plan the perfect first date

You’re an Apollo kid who works in the infirmary? Percy’s first in line for Will’s first aid summer course. You harvest strawberries with the Demeter and Dionysus kids? Percy’s there before everyone else with 3 wicker baskets on each arm

Eventually, you do end up becoming really good friends because he’s just always there and really fun to talk to and super nice and good with kids and maybe he’s a little cute, you’re allowed to have cute friends! 

You would’ve been teetering the thin line between friends and dating for ages if it wasn’t for Annabeth, who devises a plan to get you alone and somehow managed to get the whole camp in on it

That’s how you both ended up at the beach, Percy with a note in his jean pocket that read, “tell her or I will - A” 

Turning to you, the corners of Percy’s mouth couldn’t help but lift as he watched you admire the way the waves lapped over the shore. That moment would be ingrained in his head forever, because it was the moment he fully understood he had to have you. His nerves betray him. When you ask, “what’d you wanna tell me?” Instead of saying some heartfelt confession that’d make you swoon, Percy states a simple fact: “You’re my best friend.” It turned out fine though, because you knew what it was. You felt the same way.

Once you start dating, you are practically attached at the hip. Wherever you go, so does Percy and vice versa

When dating Percy, you truly get the best of both worlds because not only is he your boyfriend, he is also your best friend and truly someone you can lean on when needed

Loyalty is his fatal flaw so expect a concerning amount of loyalty. He would find ways to justify you murdering a whole family if he had to

However, what comes with loyalty is protectiveness and jealousy. He doesn’t get that jealous because he knows that you two were literally written in the stars by Aphrodite herself, but he still can’t help but get a little jealous when he sees you with some other guy

Just kiss him a little and maybe stay the night at Cabin 3 and never speak to that guy again and he’ll be fine

Inherited motherly traits from Sally. Always checking you for cuts and scrapes after capture the flag, makes you a lunchbox before quests and then insists he goes with you to make you more food when needed and definitely not because he’s worried you won’t come back alive!

He knows you can handle yourself and all but he can’t help it. Out of everyone at camp, Percy’s your number one guy when it comes to dangerous quests

One of his biggest fears that kept him distancing himself from you when he was crushing on you was that he didn’t want you sucked into all the dangers he goes through on a daily basis. He’d rather watch you date someone ‘safe’ from afar than put you in harm’s way

You’d choose him over a literal God though, so he has no choice but to be stuck with you. Power couple!

After a really bad quest, one where he almost died, Percy sat you down at his cabin for a talk. Part of him didn’t want to tell you what happened, but he knew it’d be unfair on your end if you were left in the dark. “Look, I understand if you don’t want to stay with me. If it weren’t for Grover’s quick thinking, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me, and it’s not right for you to be stuck with a guy who’s basically friends with death. You deserve someone more sta–” You shut him up with a kiss, “Percy, when I agreed to date you, I didn’t just agree to all the good things, I agreed to the uglier parts of your life too. Sure, I was really worried while you were gone, but that’s just part of being a demigod, and it's a price I’m willing to pay for all the amazing moments we have together, so don’t even think about me leaving you.”

Anyways, he introduces you to Sally and Paul as soon as humanly possible. They already know too much about you considering you guys never met, but that’s just because Percy would rant to them about his crush on you on a daily basis

He's so incredibly happy watching you get along with his family. All of his favourite people gathered in one room <3

He also loves to see you interact with Estelle! Percy is a huge fan of kids so he can’t help but stare as you play peekaboo with his younger half-sister

Percy also introduces you to the ocean and everything about it. You liked it before, as it was beautiful and reminded you of camp, but Percy painted it in a whole new light

He’d constantly take you on trips under the sea, using his Poseidon kid powers to allow you to be able to see and breathe underwater like he does

This also means lots of making out underwater. After that one time you two got caught kissing by the Stolls suffering major consequences, he hasn’t been able to risk it

Overall, dating Percy is very fun & your relationship never ever gets boring :)

[blue-jisungs]

HELLOOOOOOOOOO CONGRATULATIONS TO MY ONE AND ONLY ON 8K FOLLOWERS LETSGOOOOOO

so proud of you bro

sooooo 👉👈 I was wondering if you could do jaemin + pearls b u t specifically with one of those pearl back necklaces 👀 whatever the context but it could be him getting jealous or looking respectfully

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ WISH YOU COULD🧸ྀི — respectful boyfie jaem being whipped :p ( wc 1155 )

[ extras ] a small fight between them, reader drinks alcohol, reader wears a backless dress high key inspired by the one linked and the one in the pic ! also can u guess which idol i wanted to write w this idea in the first place based on the linked song~~~

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! MOTHERRR !!! TYSM I LOVE UUUU <3 thank u for sticking around hehe!! hope u like this one <33

@kstrucknet

“you’re joking”

your intense stare drilled jaemin’s soul inside and out. he frowned, shaking his head.

“angel, don’t get mad. you know how hell of a schedule mark and haechan have, we have to cherish it” jaemin pouted, grabbing his phone. “it’s just dinner”

“it’s my company’s banquet!” you whined, tossing your calendar on the table. jaemin chewed at his bottom lip, flipping the pages to see the date. he remembered when you put that in three months ago.

“i know, i’m so sorry. but you know that next week jeno has–“ jaemin started. the dinner with his friends was unexpectedly moved - and even though he protested, it was the only available date. “you said you didn’t even want to go”

“but i have to” you grunted, pinching the bridge of your nose. you wouldn’t admit that you already bragged about bringing your boyfriend with you.

you huffed, glancing at the clock. you had four hours to get ready.

“whatever. i’ll order an uber” you hissed, leaving the living room.

jaemin figured he won’t bother you longer. he felt bad, he really wanted to go with you. but…

but you’re here alone now, sipping on a vodka sour.

the room was huge and finely decorated. your company truly went all in, renting such a luxurious place. the food was delicious too, servers in tuxedos not missing a chance to offer small appetizers.

the gold ornaments and huge chandelier made you feel like in an old romantic movie, marble vases with fresh flowers acting like a set. you wished jaemin was here, he’d appreciate the beauty of it as well.

even the music! a jazz band was rented out and jealousy gnawed at your heart upon seeing couples dancing to the slow rhythm on the dance floor. ridiculously in love, enjoying the moment.

you sighed and swirled the glass, ice clanking. your phone kept occasionally buzzing from the inside of your clutch bag laying on the bar counter. you didn’t bother to check it. if it was jaemin, he should know better. you were sour that he didn’t come along (perhaps even more sour than the name of your drink would suggest).

“oh, girl…” you heard a sigh.

you looked through your arm and smiled softly upon seeing your bestie.

ningning tsked and shook her head, approaching you. her gaze stuck on your exposed back and she gently touched the pearl lining running along your spine.

“holy shit, you look amazing?” she gasped and you just grinned. ningning made her way next to you, mouth agape “like, you’re kidding. the back? girl… the pearls?”

“i bought this dress a while ago, didn’t have a chance to wear it” you admitted and scanned her “you look hot as hell too, miss girl”

she just giggled and ordered herself a drink too.

“can’t believe this asshole of yours…” she started but just saw how your jaw tensed.

“don’t even mention it” you mumbled, drowning any more words with your alcoholic beverage.

“are you having fun though?” she asked and the bartender handed her order.

“do i look like i am?” you snickered and looked up, only to meet a pair of familiar eyes looking at you through ningning’s shoulder.

you’ve been at the banquet for three hours now, bored to death. and, maybe, a couple of drinks too much. so you weren’t even sure if it’s not your imagination pulling pranks on you.

ningning turned around and scoffed.

“well… have fun. if you want to sleep over at mine, just find me” she sing-sang and walked away mischievously, drink in her hand.

you turned your gaze the other way, leaning your face on your hand. the bartender suddenly seemed like the most interesting person in the whole room, the way he poured the liquors and mixed them.

you felt someone approach you and you just tapped frustrated at the counter.

“angel…” you huffed, trying to turn your head even more.

you heard a soft sigh of resignation.

“if that makes you feel better, i couldn’t stop staring at you ever since i arrived”

you slowly turned your gaze, meeting jaemin’s ebony irises. his features were soft yet… there was a certain look on his face. some kind of regret, some kind of… possessiveness.

maintaining eye contact, you took another sip of your drink.

“that dress… holy shit. the pearls…” he hummed, shamelessly checking you out. well, that was your plan in the first place. he couldn't look away, a small chuckle leaving his lips “i kinda regret i arrived just now. everyone else got to see you like this before me”

he was trying to get you to talk - and you were trying to give him the silent treatment. but he could see your facade was slowly breaking, the need to reply with a snarky comment growing stronger.

jaemin turned his gaze to your face and smiled gently at the sight of your pearl earrings to match. earrings, which he gave you for your first anniversary.

“i’m sorry. i should’ve made it clear for the boys that i already made plans with you. we ate dinner and i left. i just had to” he apologized, honesty in his voice. “it won’t happen again”

“obviously. since it’s one time of a thing” you mumbled and ignored the proud smirk growing on his face.

you tried to ignore him, in general. he had no right looking this handsome in an elegant suit with his hair slicked back. when did he even find the time to change? and why does such outfit fit him so well?

he cleared his throat, eyes wandering at your exposed back again. now it was your turn to swallow a cocky smile behind your drink. the dress worked like a wonder.

“i know i’m fine” you hummed and put away the empty glass.

jaemin looked you in the eye and you both knew you’re good now. you knew he was waiting to make it up to you; it was just who jaemin was. he has a soft heart and hates making you upset.

“i know you wish you could” you teased, finally stepping closer to him.

“oh, that is correct” he played along, a proud smile growing on his features. “can i…?”

you stared at his outstretched hand, dramatically humming in deep thought.

you just grabbed your bag and took his hand, leading him to the dance floor.

the jazz band was still playing a slow, romantic rhythm.

“jaemin” you hummed, wrapping your hands behind his neck. your boyfriend gently held your hips, swaying you to the rhythm. “you know, i appreciate it. that you came, in the end”

“of course. sorry you had to deal with my foolishness first, though” he smiled and leaned closer, his lips brushing yours “also, this dress is really, really gorgeous. not sure if i mentioned.”

you just giggled, pulling him closer to seal his lips in a passionate kiss.

m. list <3

taglist. @l3visbby ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @w3bqrl ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,, @slytherinshua

[truelotus]

“𝐈𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋” — 03

Yandere! Sosuke Aizen X F! Reader

TW: Smut/ lemon, 18+ content or mature content

The spark between you and Sosuke continued on even after visiting the cave together, things have gotten a lot serious ever since. There was no need to label what you were. There was a clear connection and loyalty between you both.

Though ever since visiting that cave together, things around you seemed to be different..

It’s hard to explain but, men who have interacted with you seemed to disappear from existence the day after or whenever. Were you some kind of bad luck towards men?

Just a couple days ago, you stopped by a dango stop. It was a stand you often visited when heading out for a mission. You knew the owners son had a small crush on you but you chose to ignore it. Just to be able to enjoy the dangos you ate.

But.. the last visit you made, he gave you a beautiful single rose as a gift. You accepted it out of kindness, and again choosing to ignore the blush on his face as he gifted it to you.

Then you revisited the other day, the owner had a depressing aura surrounding him. You couldn’t help but be worried and ask him what had happened.

“Is everything alright? You seem to be down.” You said as you put your hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort the old man.

“Not exactly.. my son.. he passed away the other night. He was..murdered” Causing you to gasp.

You were so deep in thought you didn’t realize that Sosuke had snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your head.

“Is something the matter, darling?” His voice brought you back to the present, you blushed when he called you darling, you were like a teenager fan girling over him when he used that pet name.

“Oh no, I was just thinking.” He pulled away as you turned around, you then placed a gentle kiss upon his jawline.

“Well.. I’m aware that you’ve been quite busy, darling. However, I have some plans for us tonight. The festival and all, do you think you’ll be able to make it happen?” he said in a soft and calming tone.

“Of course I can! I’ll always find time for you Sosuke. You know it.” He chuckled lightly, then placing a kiss on your glossy lips.

“That’s splendid.”

“Let me go get my captain, I need to inform him about the meeting for today. Though I doubt he will be attending.. You know how my captain is.” You were just about to leave your office to fetch him, just for Sosuke to grab your hand, pulling you back to him.

It was such a quick moment, somehow he spun you around, your face was right to his chest.

“Sosuke..?”

“I actually needed your assistance with.. something else.” You titled your head slightly, confused on what on earth he was talking about. But just then you could feel something hard touching your thigh.

“Oh my.”

“I apologize.. It’s been quite some time since I’ve last felt your touch. As you can see I am very.. touch starved for you.”

“Of course, Sosuke.”

It was almost embarrassing on how quickly you stripped yourself down for this man, Sosuke could feel himself getting harder just by watching you strip down for him.

He loved how devoted you were to him, if he wanted a handjob while he worked on paperwork, you’d do it, if he wanted you to give him a blowjob while there was someone in his office, you’d do it. You did everything for him and with no complaints.

“Beautiful. As always.” He said as he placed his hands onto your hips, looking at yours curves and beauty.

You are his prize possession, you are his everything, you are to be flaunted to the whole universe. If everything goes accordingly to plan, you will be. You will be the queen that everyone praises, he will do everything in his power to make you the queen of his new world. Everything just has to go according to his plan.

In a swift movement, he bent you over your desk. He bent down a bit just to see your pretty little cunt.

“You’re dripping already.” He stuck his tongue out, licking your cunt. Causing shivers down your spine. “Please.. Sosuke.”

He stood back up so he could get his cock out, “I’ll fill you up just nicely.” You could feel his hard tip at the entrance of your wet cunt, slowly, he entered inside.

He fit you like a glove.. your walls clamped down onto him, making him throw his head back. “I can never get enough of you.” Slowly, he started to thrust himself into you.

Your hands gripped onto your desk, your breasts laid out onto your desk. The room was filled with your lustful moans. “S-Sosuke..” You moaned out his name.

You felt his sex twitch inside you as you moaned out his name, gosh he fucking loved when you moaned his name like that. “That’s right..huff—say my name just like that.”

You could feel his thrusts getting faster, and with each thrust, he hit that perfect spot of yours. He knew very well how to make you feel amazing.

He absolutely loved fucking you from behind, though he can’t see your beautiful face, he gets to see your ass jiggle with each thrust he made.

He put his hands onto your ass, gripping onto your cheeks. You let out louder moans, you were beginning to get too loud..

Aizen removed one of his hands from your ass, he used his free hand to shove two of his fingers into your mouth, “People will hear you..” He leaned over, whispering into your ear while fucking your cunt.

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You gagged on his fingers when he shoved them deeper into your mouth. “I bet you would.. you want people to hear you getting fucked like a dirty slut.” He used his other hand to smack your ass.

Causing you yelp out, even with fingers shoved in your mouth. He took his fingers out of your mouth but then grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back.

“O-Oh..F-Fuck..!” Your words were shaky just from how hard Sosuke’s cock was fucking you. You could feel yourself about to come soon.

“Sosuke.. I’m about to..”

“Hah.. I know.. me too.” He could feel himself about to finish, your walls clamped onto his cock, making him groan.

And just like that, your juices were all over his cock, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, slobber slightly coming out of your mouth when coming.

“Look at that..” He looked down to see your juices all over his dick, what a beautiful scenery to him.

“Oh fuck..”

He was now finishing up too, he did a quick more thrusts into your cunt before he came inside you, he stopped all his movements, he stayed still inside of you just to make sure your sweet cunt was filled to the brim.

“You took me so well.” He placed a kiss on your shoulder, giving you a quick smack on your ass before pulling out.

He bent down to see your cunt in all it’s glory, seeing his semen spill out of you pleased him. “Beautiful.” He said as he stood back up, you looked awfully exhausted.

“Come on darling.. we still have a meeting to attend you. Go on and get your captain.”

You straightened yourself up, legs wobbly, you could still feel his cock inside of you but it wasn’t actually inside of you. “O-Okay..” You collected your clothes that were on the floor, dressing yourself up.

[kira-quartz]

Last song: Karolina - The Basics

Favourite colour: Purple

Last book: I started reading Interview With the Vampire last month, but I haven't picked it up in a while. Still pretty good so far, though.

Last movie: Can't remember. Might still be the heckin' Garfield movie? ^^;

Last show: Gilmore Girls

Sweet/spicy/savoury: Either sweet or savoury, depending on the specific thing, but it's been wayyy too long since I've has a curry >_<

Relationship status: N/A

Last thing I googled: "owl house first wpisode airdate" (<- exact words XD) I was thinking about how one of my OCs has some things in common with Amity despite having been created before I knew anything about The Owl House, and I was wondering if it even existed yet when I created her (it didn't)

Current obsession: YGO, my OCs and their world (there are so many worldbuilding things that it didn't occur to me to think about 8-10 years ago when I created most of them!), X Japan (still... this morning I had Kurenai stuck in my head, this afternoon it was Joker, a few hours ago it was Rusty Nail, and now there are like 4 other songs fighting over my brainspace XD)

Looking forward to: posting more art (maybe some Carryshipping for Valentine's Day, if I can come up with anything?), the next TS4 expansion pack reveal (please let it be bands!!), DunMeshi season 2, these heckin' renovations being finished so I can have my bedroom + bathroom back XD (hopefully this week!)

@hopefulstarfire @hereforthefunnyguys @dancingkirby @lizzylizzyinatizzy @sesshy380 @animecartoon-baransu and anyone else who wants to!

Ten People I’d Like to Get to Know Better

Tagged by: @anonymous-existences (ty for tagging me :3)

Last song: The entire Ithaca Saga by Jorge Rivera-Herrans

Favorite color: Yellow, but specifically a light golden yellow

Last book: The Science of Psychology: An Appreciative View 6th Edition by Laura King 💀

Last movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End

Last show: Teen Wolf (I barely got started)

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sweet and salty

Relationship status: I have been single my entire life 🧍

Last thing I googled: "monologuing"

Current obsession: DPxDC and the Ithaca Saga

Looking forward to: I have an outing planned with a friend I haven't seen in a while!

Tagging (no pressure ofc): @meditating-cat @elizabethemerald @pinklotushere @hello-casualbouquetcycle @starlightcat04 @angyblobghost @zhelin-thames @kyohoke @vangreer @caleism-1

[probablysimpledreams]

I'm With the Band (Band AU Dabi x reader)

a/n: EEEK I love LOV band au so much punk Touya is literally my boyfriend my muse my obsession I'm so happy I finally sat down and write a fic about him <33

cw: substances (alcohol, weed, and I always have to give Touya a cigarette LOL)

wc: 1169

"AH I'm so nervous come take this shot with me!!" your friend panicked as she jumped around the apartment kitchen. You chuckle as you accept the shot glass she hands you. Your friend has spent all day running around full of excitement and nerves as tonight she was finally meeting the guy she met online a few months ago. It just so happens that Tenko, or better known as "discord boyfriend" between you two, and his band were the opening act at a small venue nearby. You decided to attend the concert with her to offer moral support, and to make sure this guy was legit and wasn't going to kidnap your beautiful friend.

"It's going to be fine," you reassure her. "I've seen the messages that man is obsessed with you," you two clink glasses and take the shot of liquor. "You have nothing to worry about."

"Mmmmm I'm just so worried ahhh take another shot with me," your friend grabs the bottle as you roll your eyes. "Please?"

After another shot, quick smoke break, and one more pep-talk you, you two finally left the apartment. The Uber ride was about ten minutes which you were grateful for because if it had been any longer you're sure your friend would have talked herself out of going.

You two thank the driver, giggling while entering the venue. It was a nice spot, featuring two small bars and a large space for everyone to gather around the stage.

"Ohmygod there he is!" your friend whispered, pointing towards the stage as his group walked on. Since the main group wasn't going on for another hour and a half, the venue was not very crowded yet. You wasted no time grabbing your friends' hand as you ran up close to the stage. You smiled watching the two interact before the set started. You also couldn't help but notice that the bassist to Tenko's right would not stop looking at you. You smiled at him, causing him to break his gaze away from you, moving to fiddle with his instrument until the drummer came out.

"We are the L.O.V, here to carry out Stain's legacy of rock n' roll," their drummer Iguchi exclaimed before banging his drum sticks together. "LETS GET FUCKING HYPED!!" The crowd cheered as the band broke out into song. You sing along as you recognize the song from the times your friend has played it, happily showing off her boyfriend and his singing talent. But man hearing it live was such a different experience! Between the amazing sound and all the alcohol you consumed before arriving, you couldn't help but get lost in the moment. You danced happily alongside your friend, singing the words to every song they played. You couldn't help but notice the wide smirk on the mysterious bassist's face accompanied by his shiny blue eyes stuck on you throughout the set.

Once their set was over and everyone cheered, your friend ran off to meet up with Tenko. By now the venue was getting more crowded, so you decided to slip outside to catch some fresh air. As you stood in the smoking section, you happily remembered the untouched joint sitting in your jacket pocket. Sadly that happiness was short lived as you realized you didn't pack a lighter alongside it.

"Need a light?" a deep voice caused you to jump before turning your head to see who approached you. The bassist snickered at this reaction, lighting his own cigarette before holding the flame out so you could light your joint. You thank him with a quiet hum and take a puff, moving closer to him. "Saw you and your little friend dancing out there. It looked like you enjoyed our show a lot." Despite the confidence in his voice, you couldn't help but notice the way his hands were shaking nervously.

"My friend is dating your lead singer, so I had no choice but to get into your music," you teased.

"So I'm wrong in calling you a fan?" he raised an eyebrow, smirk never leaving his face. Now that you were right next to him, you were able to get a better look at him. He was tall and lanky, yet still looked very strong. He was covered in piercings, tattoos, and scars accompanied by ripped black jeans, battle vest, and distressed v-neck shirt. You were now very thankful your friend had convinced you to drink and smoke as much as you had tonight or else you would have not had the confidence to stand here and talk to the gorgeous man.

"Oh no I'm definitely a fan," you smile, taking another puff. "Helps that the bassist is so attractive." You tried your hardest to keep up a calm and sexy demeanor despite your heart trying to jump out of your chest. You were not going to fumble this!! "Though I'm sure you get that a lot."

"Yeah I hear it quite often," he chuckles, removing his cigarette from between his lips before moving in closer to you. His face was now inches away from your own, making your eyes widen. "But it's not everyday I hear it from someone as pretty as you." You felt like you were about to faint upon hearing his words, making him snicker. Before either of you could speak again, a loud crash from behind the building caught everyone's attention.

"Can someone in this band keep their dick in their pants for ONE SECOND and help me load the truck?" Iguchi angrily yelled as he loaded up a massive speaker onto the band's truck.

"Yeah Touya get over here! Hey man don't interrupt him and his game!" the man in the driver's seat called out.

"Touyaaaaa get that cutie's number!!" a young girl in buns sitting in the passenger seat chimed in. She giggled as he flicked both of them off before turning back to face you, cheeks tinted light pink.

"These idiots can't do a damn thing without me," he huffed, reaching into pocket. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and handed one to you. You looked at him confused before flipping it over where you noticed a phone number written down. He mouthed "call me," making a phone with his hands as he ran off to help pack up the truck.

Your heart fluttered as you happily went back inside to reunite with your friend, the two of you heading back to your apartment to debrief how the night went.

--------------

The next morning you had to remind yourself that the previous was not a dream, and you did in fact get Touya's number. You grab the cigarette off the night stand and typed in his phone number.

"Hello?"

"So you just keep your number on cigarettes? Bet all your fans love that," you laugh.

"Pretty romantic huh?" you can practically hear the smile as he responds. "But that's not something I usually do. See baby, you're special. Couldn't let you get away that easily."

[dehlizalah]

Namgyu : Friends With Benefits Head Cannons

Warnings: nsfw / Drugs / spit kink / slight description of sex / slight abuse / possessive

namgyu x f!reader

Hello fellow namgyu apologists 🙏🙏 I’ve been wanting to post sm like this for a long time ! This is a little icky but wtv

• When you’re angry with him, he’ll just stand there and take whatever you have to say. Weather you get angry and decide to slap him, he’ll take the slap and continue to stare at you until your done. If your arguing he’ll probably try to grab your hands to make sure your listening. Not necessarily in an aggressive way, but more frustrated. Every time you talk he’ll slightly bite his lips or inner cheek, out of habit. After arguing he’d probably completely ignore you for a few hours, expecting you to come and make things better again, he doesn’t want to be seen as weak or vulnerable, so begging for your forgiveness is not his style. Although he doesn’t come to you at first, if it’s been a few days he’ll try to approach you slyly and try to get on your good side by trying to hold hands or him patting your shoulders while you do something.

• He becomes way more affectionate on some kinds of drugs, it really just depends on what he’s taken. On weed, you noticed that he would become more clingy and more willing to please you, more hungry for you but is also a little lazy on cannabis. on cocaine he is more confident with himself and is usually quite cocky. When you visit him at the club, it’s like drawing out a wildcard, he may be out of his mind on drugs, talking to other girls or hiding in the nearest corner trying to count the seconds till his shift is over.

• That man definitely has a spit kink… As you kiss, he would try to muster up enough spit so he could pass it to you through your lips and make it sit in your mouth. After you swallow it, he would whisper something along the lines of…

“You like my spit? You’re so disgusting” into your ear as he smirked and slightly laughed to himself. Whenever appropriate, he would try to use spit. It didn’t matter to him, if it was on his hands before he attentively stuck two fingers into you, watching your eyes roll back to the back of your skull, or aggressively spitting on your breasts just to see it drip down your chest.

“So beautiful” He says as he scans his dark evening dust eyes all over your body, watching the spit drips from top to bottom.

• On days you couldn’t go to see him, you’d send him a quick photo of your body, sometimes not even getting a reply from him until a few hours later, regardless of wether he had read it the second you sent it. He wanted to play hard to get, like you not being able to come over to see him meant that you didn’t love him. He loved to play bratty.

• Your relationship with namgyu is more of a close friends with benefits situation. He treats you like his girlfriend, but it hasn’t been labeled whatsoever. Having asked Namgyu about it, he had always said “Why does everything have to have a name.. like why can’t we just do what we do?”

This hurts a little, because you want a relationship with him. You want to be able to post cute stories about him on your instagram, you want to have the stereotypical romance story relationship that all of your friends have, but namgyu is against the idea. Like he’s scared of commitment, scared of the idea of being emotionally wedged to a person. You know he loves you, in his own strange way, but he is cold. Bad at showing true feelings. You once confronted him about it, he waked out and ignored you for days, then came back, the first thing he did was touch you. You hate how easily you give into him. You hate how you’d always come back for more, no matter what he did.

[alexthebordercollie]

Going to bounce off of what you talked about with your thoughts regarding Stan's relationships and just say I totally know what you mean about shipping two characters together because it's funny!

Heck I ship Lazy Susan with both Stan and Ford because I just think the idea of her being with either of them to be extremely funny and cute lmaoo.

So sorry for the late reply (not been posting much for a while been sick and busy) but I actually have been playing around with Emma-Stan as a possible PapaFord ship ^3^

My Emma-may is mixed race and from a Ciphertologist family. She was too little when Billville was disbanded to remember it, but her family still practices behind closed doors. It was an incredibly toxic environment with very mentally unwell caretakers, and rumors that the Dixons were devil worshipers made her a social pariah. She befriended Fidds, who was the dweeby awkward baby of a family of five sons. Emma was his cool, scary friend who drove away the bullies and the two weirdos stuck together in a small town where neither of them were very popular.

She was Fiddleford's best friend, and as they got older, everyone just expected them to end up together. When Fiddleford went off to college, he promised to come back and marry her after getting his degree, which he did indeed do. Emma didn't know any other way at the time to get away from her family but to leave with Fidds. Their marriage grew increasingly rocky over the years due to Fidds being a closeted gay man (unbeknownst to Emma) and Emma being increasingly bored and frustrated by life as a housewife and mother. Emma-May is naturally hot-headed and brash and always has been. She's a loud strong strong-willed woman who doesn't fit well into other people's boxes. She's actually very clever in her own right and learned programming from Fiddleford. She got into making video games as a hobby. She simply never had access to the kind of educational opportunities Fiddleford got. I was going to make this a comic but I was having a hard time drawing this one for whatever reason so I decided to write a short fic instead I hope it still satisfies even though there are fewer pictures. -3-

That's your Ex-Wife?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Thanks for comin' to help out."

Stan picked up the twang from around the corner. Heading out the kitchen side door and back to the truck. Ford's neurotic string bean of a boyfriend had speed walked ahead of them on the way over a caught Emma-May before they did. She'd gone off to run an errand with their boy and Fidds had let the Pines brothers in to start bringing in boxes without her. It sounded like she was back. Certainly sounded like Stan expected Fiddleford's wife to sound.

"Oh no it's nothin' it's the least we could do." Fidds insisted as he pulled another box from the back of the truck.

Stan watched as the box jerked Fidds arms down. He struggled for a second to catch it and tried to support the weight with his back. Flashing a pained smile around the truck.

"Yo Fidds, ya need help with that?" Stan offered as he approached.

He registered the woman's voice before he saw her face.

"Oh look, if it ain't the home wrecker," she snarked in that southern drawl.

Stan stopped shy of taking the box from Fiddleford and looked past him.

Holy shit, that was Emma-May?

Stanley didn't know much about Fiddleford's ex-wife. He'd seen the two argue on the phone a few times. Caught her voice in passing once or twice. Their son Tate had come to stay with them a few times while his folks were working out the divorce.

Stan knew Emma-May was hot headed woman but nothing could have prepared him for just how hot she was.

A light-skinned black lady greeted him curtly with her hands on her hips. Caramel skin and a mess of chocolate freckles. Dame looked like dessert. She had on a low-neckline paisley blouse with free titties underneath like the best kind of feminist hippie. Not that Stan was a fan of either of those things but he could certainly be convinced of both if it meant he got a peak of nips through the thin orange fabric. Fuck man… He'd been expecting a traditional southern housewife but those daisy dukes were giving anything but.

Stan coughed and cleared his throat as he registered what she called him. Homewrecker.

"Oh hey," Stan cooed, brushing back his mullet before offering her five fingers. "You must have me confused for my brother toots," He corrected. Stan held out his hand and flashed his best smile. "Stanley Pines, the hot twin," he introduced playfully.

"Hey!" Ford interjected as he rounded the corner just in time to hear Stan's introduction.

Eh fuck em, he could take a joke. Not like he had anyone to impress. He was already raising to kids with his live in partner. His bachelor life was dead, he could stop trying now. As if he ever had.

Emma-May popped the gum in her mouth and looked down at Stan's hand for a moment before she took it with a playful smile. "I see that," She snarked playfully back. She had a firm grip and gave Stan's hand a good shake. "Dunno how I ever got ya'll two confused, my bad sug."

Stan couldn't help but beam. Straightening up his coat as he pulled back to rock leisurely on his heels. "No hard feelings doll, it's an honest mistake."

Fiddleford groaned and rolled his eyes. "Yes Stanley here moved in to help out with the twins," he explained.

"I recall," Emma-may assured him. Arms crossed as she looked Stan up and down. "Tate's mentioned ya, says yer fun."

"Glad someone around here appreciates me," Stan laughed and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "He's a good kid."

Ford leaned in around Stan's shoulder and pointed back towards the house. "The twins are in the kitchen by the way," he warns. "I assure you the dog kennel I have them in is both entirely necessary and completely safe."

Emma-May jerked back a moment. Stan couldn't see her eyes but he could make an educated guess. "Ya'll keep yer babies in a kennel?!" She snapped at Fidds.

Fiddleford shrunk back holding the box to his chest. "I promise it ain't what it sounds like-"

"Newt can climb walls and Nick will chew through anything weaker than aluminum," Ford clarified, emphasizing his point with a hand gesture.

Emma-may winced and looked between the two Pines brothers before looking back at Fiddleford slightly horrified.

Fiddleford chuckled awkwardly and shrugged. "Welcome to Gravity Falls."

Emma-may snatched up the box Fiddleford was struggling with and hoisted it over her shoulder without breaking a sweat. "I swear ya better not make me regret comin' here," she snapped.

"I sure hope not," Stan stressed. "Man already blew it once, can't let him scare you off before someone else gets a shot."

Emma-may looked back a little surprised. She cracked and laughed into her knuckles. A cute little pig snort of a laugh. "Are you volunteering over there sharp shooter?" she teased.

Stan shot finger guns back at her with a click of his tongue and a wink. Grinning ear to ear.

Emma-may laughed harder and threw her head back. She slapped a juicy thigh and took a second to collect herself. Fuck, that laugh, Stan could get used to that laugh.

"Ain't ya bold mother fucker-"

"I mean," Stan shrugged, leaning in playfully. "Go big or go home, might as well aim for the hottest mama in town."

Emma-may smirked back at him. "Well, good luck with that slick. Let me know how it works out fer ya."

Emma turned to head back inside and Stan certainly couldn't complain. He'd never be disappointed watching that fine ass leave. Holy Moses, those shorts! That denim was working overtime to contain that much ass.

A harsh throat clearing pulled Stan's attention away. He turned to see Fiddleford glaring at him red faced. The twiggy blonde scarecrow looked so puffed up he pop a blood vessel. "What the fuck was that!?" he hissed, waving franticly in the direction Emma-May had left.

Stan looked back towards the open front door then turned his attention back to Fiddleford. "What?"

"Did you seriously just hit on my ex-wife?!" Fiddleford bocked in exasperation.

"Did you seriously leave a dime like that for my dweeby brother?" Stan huffed indignantly. Crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm right here." Ford whined from behind Fiddleford.

"Can it Sixer, this ain't about you," Stan dismissed.

"Could ya go check on the kiddos Sugarbear?" Fiddleford cooed sweetly.

Ford rolled his eyes and turned back to the truck bed. Scooping up a couple boxes and heading back inside. Fiddleford watched him leave before turning on Stan again. Jabbing his chest with a boney finger. "You listen up and you listen good," he warned. "You keep yer greasy paws off Emma-May, we clear?"

Stan furrowed his brow and frown. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Stan shoved Fiddleford back. Man was ninety pounds soaking wet, Stan wasn't about to let this little weasel push him around. He didn't care if he was his brother's boyfriend.

"Where do you get off getting all possessive now?" Stan snapped back. "You're the one who cheated, you didn't want her then but as soon as someone else is interested you wanna act you own her?"

Fiddleford growled back at him before collecting himself. Pulling back to rub the faint scar on his temple. "Look, we go way back ya understand? She's my best friend."

"I thought Stanford was your best friend," Stan snarked back with giant air quotes.

Fiddleford glowered at him. "I know how ya treat women Stanley," he leaned in again. Practically nose to nose with Stan. "If you hurt her, god have mercy on my soul cause I'm goin' to hell," he threatened.

Stan laughed and pulled back. Slapping Fiddleford's shoulder. "Ah fuck! HA! For what? Crying at me? You gonna tickle me with those noodle arms?" Stan hugged his gut to contain his laughter and wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh man, go right ahead and do your worst Fiddlesticks I ain't scared," he grinned back at Fiddleford.

"I mean it Stanley," Fiddleford insisted.

Stan gave his shoulder a light jab and watched the other man wobble and rub his arm. Still twisting up that squishy baby face of his with the meanest look he could muster. Stan offered him a sincere smile and a hand extended. "Look you wanna play better man be my guest. If I fuck up you better put your money where your mouth is."

Fiddleford frown down at Stan's hand before hesitantly reaching for it with a raised eyebrow.

Stan took Fidds hand and pulled it in. "And if I make that southern bell ring you back off like a real gentleman, ya got that?"

Fiddleford's frown wobbled irritably before he spat out a reluctant, "Fine."

[brokenpieces-72]

New Balance

Note: This one has been sitting in my notes for a bit, and was inspired by a photo of Neil Ellice in a white sweater, and no mohawk. From there I got the idea of Soap surviving the bullet but there would still be consequences.

Amnesia, is what they told Johnny. They were able to provide him with proper living and even provided him with some work. He was encouraged to attend therapy but it wasn’t required. Some times he went if only to talk some stuff out. Johnny had a good life though. The neighbours were friendly, he had a contractor who hired him for consulting and odd jobs, decent income, and on occasion took in foster animals. Yet something always felt missing from his life. They didn’t tell him anything about his past. A clean slate, a fresh start. Then why did feel stale?

Johnny opened his eyes with a gasp and sat upright. Another dream about death. Honestly, he was considering returning to his therapist about it. He checked his clock and saw he’d woken up before his alarm again. Seriously 4AM? Again? He tried to go back to sleep but the image of a skull dressed in black kept burning into his mind. Johnny, fed up with his fruitless efforts sat up and pulled out the notepad he’d started keeping by his bed, writing down what he’d seen in his sleep. At least he could add it later on before it vanished from his head again. Johnny tried to go back to sleep grumbling to himself about his mind not letting him ignore what he’d witnessed. He maybe got an extra hour or two of just relaxing and resting before his alarm went off.

The amnesiac got out of bed, and did the usual morning routine. A small work out today, he didn’t feel up to a full one. Breakfast was simple enough, and he could pick something up on the way to his regular job. Shower, dressed, checking his pack to make sure he had everything, lunch made up. An hour to spare, with enough time to grab a bite to eat.

Johnny went to work and headed to the tire shop immediately. Fall was when everyone got their tires changed over and he could work quickly. Mix that with night stocker and he was able to cover decent enough ground. Plenty of friendlies around him, people teaching him how the warehouse worked, and people for him to teach. It also meant a lot of energy lost by the end of the night. Yet somehow sleep wanted to leave early almost every night.

He came in to find a kid cross training in the shop, still learning by getting the vehicles lifted and nuts and bolts off the tires. The noise the power socket made when it was grinding against the nuts was evident of their lacking experience. It was loud and almost sounded like gun fire. It went on for a while, of them tightening the bolts more than they maybe should. The sound was not new but it did give him a bit of anxiousness.

“Aye!” He shouted to the kid. They stopped and looked back at him. “The bolt is on, move on to the next one and get it torqued.”

“Yes sir.” You responded. The loud bang of tires breaking pulled Johnny back to where he was supposed to be. A few needed to be balanced, so he got to work on that, removing the weights, and getting new ones on.

You could curse up a storm, clearly frustrated with the screws and the weight of the tires. You were crouching so yeah that can be sore on the ankles with extra weight after a while. The concrete floors were pleasant on the knees either. Johnny noticed you looking around and fiddling with the socket, which was stuck to the nut of the wheel. Johnny finished up and called for you reading your name tag.

“I can’t get it out, I don’t know what I did wrong.” You said distressed. Johnny could deal with it.

“Get these on to the one in bay two. I’ll fix this.” Johnny said, offering a newly balanced tire. You got right on it, quickly. At least you had that down. Unfortunately you seemed to be making plenty of mistakes. Not your fault, some were out of your control. The bolts were sticky on some, others were hard to find the lift points. You kept apologizing, with some of the other employees as well.

Johnny had you as a night stocker in his department. Worked hard and quick but fell behind sometimes. Sometimes Johnny had to remind you to pick up the pace. You just needed a few pointers, and reminders to stay focused.

The day was tiring. Eventually it ended though. As Johnny gave his farewell to the older manager lady, he stepped out to let the cold air fill his lungs. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to relax before the drive back home.

You were sitting at the picnic table just outside the exit door. You were shivering a little, and checking your phone. A little young for you to be out here alone. Late to be out here alone. Johnny had finished later giving him some over time, but you finished sooner than him. Chilly out too.

“Oi kid?” Johnny said. You looked up, arms folded, shivering and hunched over. “You getting picked up?”

“My uh… my uncle was supposed to pick me up, but… guess he forgot. Just waiting for someone to come.”

“Don’t ya live near me?” Johnny asked. You gave him your address, and yep, it was maybe a five minute drive from away from his place. “Want a ride?”

“You sure?”

Johnny jerked his head. “Not that far out of my way.”

You got off the table and followed the older man, the backpack slung over your shoulder. Johnny didn’t mind driving a little further down the road.

“Sorry for causing any trouble today.” You said.

“Stuff happens. Don’t worry too much.” Johnny assured her. You started chatting with him, learning more about him, and he learned more about you. Little artist who had your sketchbook out every day before starting your shift, played video games, and liked animals.

Once they reached your home, Johnny let you get out but waited as you went up to the door. The uncle was supposed to leave the spare key out or the door unlocked. Johnny already didn’t trust this. He watched as you fumbled around the door trying to get in. Johnny got out of his car and beckoned you back in. No way in hell he would let you stay on the porch.

He got you in his car and drove to his place.

You kept saying sorry. Johnny told you again, it was fine. Besides he didn’t mind the company, living alone. If anything he was concerned you might be the one uncomfortable. A blanket was found and a pillow, and you curled up on the couch. You fell asleep before Johnny could say good night. It was a lot of work, he doesn’t blame you.

The next morning though you were gone. A note was left saying you’d gone back home, and thanking him for letting you stay the night. Johnny shrugged it off, got breakfast made and some small work done before heading off to work himself. He expected you to be at work at least and you showed up early once again. Almost an hour early. He didn’t know if your perception of time was off but then he saw you in your sketchbook. The doodles were pretty cute, and he realized it was the kittens he was fostering. Once his stuff was ready he sat down next to you and asked about your work. Another apology for sleeping and dipping, and then he got his answers.

A couple of weeks passed by, and you had come around to Johnny’s place a few times to stay the night. Johnny didn’t mind putting you up, but he told you to get a spare key so you could get back in your house. A few times you did get picked up, and Johnny tried to talk to your uncle. Each time he missed out, or the Uncle told him he didn’t have time to talk. Johnny would let it go, shaking his head.

In the tire shop, the noise was high. When tightening the bolts, on the wheels, once tight the loud clicking from the socket unable to move can be loud, and grinding. Johnny found himself looking up every time it rang out. The night before, his sleep had been riddled with shouts and gunfire. The kid was doing it, to make sure the wheel was on properly, to reduce the work of torquing. A few others were as well, but it kept pulling Johnny’s attention, making him stare off. It was making his heart thump harder in his chest, and the air to thin around him. The manager had to snap him out of it a few times, offering to take over whatever he was working on.

You took notice of him a few times but assumed he just got distracted. It started to be a pattern though, and with the busy schedule and getting backed up, there wasn’t much time to stand around. You finished bagging the tire you were on, loading it in the back of a car. Johnny was right by the pile of junk tires, bracing himself against one of them. Without a word, you touched Johnny’s arm bringing him to reality again. Johnny tried to go back to work, but no. You were insistent on him stepping out of the shop to get some water.

“I haven’t been keeping you up have I?” You asked.

“No no… m’fine. Ah’m just…” Johnny didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged. You told him to wait outside in the quieter part of the shop, and went back in to get Johnny one of the mini chocolates someone bought for the tire shop team.

“Take a minute. Have some water. Have your chocolate. Come back in when you’re ready.” You said. Johnny nodded, appreciating the your concern for him. Yeah, he needed a break. If it was to get away from being overwhelmed then that was fine. You disappeared back into the shop while Johnny sighed, leaning against a stack of tires. Yeah that chocolate felt good along with the cold water washing it down.

The dream felt too real last night. It was a fast blur but a few things had stood out to him, having seen them before previous nights. The thing that should’ve haunted him was seeing death. He swore that’s what it was, the grim reaper. There were times he swore he saw it outside of his house too but passed it off as just nerves. It should haunt him… so why didn’t it?

“Aye. Try to stay awake.” Johnny said, nudging you in the passenger seat. You yawned and stretched in your seat as much as you could. Both of you were exhausted. Johnny had been getting plenty of commissions for consulting, along with regular work. You had been working overtime quite a bit lately. Thank god the weekend was tomorrow. Johnny had offered to let you stay the night, seeing you drag yourself through the last couple of work days. You could sleep in hopefully, instead of taking off before the sun could.

“M’tryin…” You said sleepily, rubbing your eyes.

“Ya did good today.” He said, hoping conversation would help keep you awake.

“Thanks for letting me stay tonight.” You said.

“I’m not driving all the way to your place tonight, and I cannae let you go walking by yourself.” Johnny exclaimed.

Once you got to Johnny’s place, he let the you in, and then turned around. The road wasn’t very well-lit but he scanned the trees and houses anyways. It was a more rural area, less people and houses, so someone standing and watching like Michael Myers catches peoples’ attention. Yet the only thing stirring was the trees from the wind. Johnny was alert, trying to discern shapes and rule them out as anomalies.

“Johnny?” You asked from behind. Johnny didn’t say anything, instead stepped inside, still watching before shutting the door. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Ah’m.” Johnny assured you, but he wasn’t so sure himself. You didn’t press. Only asked where the spare blanket was. Johnny wasn’t going to let you sleep on the couch tonight, and instead led you to the small guest room he had. You seemed to appreciate that, thanking him and offering a hug. Johnny gladly accepted the offer.

Once Johnny left you to wash up and tuck yourself in, he went to the kitchen. Then he started to draw the curtains, not wanting anyone to see inside his home. After that he went to the basement and inside a small closet in a makeshift office space. It was under lock and key, one that Johnny kept on him at all times. Unlocking it he took inventory of the small weapons stash he had, seeing if anything had been taken out without him noticing. Everything was accounted for. He shut the doors and locked it back up.

Johnny wasn’t a stranger to pattern recognition. After having a few dreams of death he knew it meant something. He wasn’t willing to talk to his therapist about it. But by now, he’d started to piece some things together about his past. In a side room next to the closet, was a chair. A chair sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by thoughts, ideas, notes, scribbles and even news clippings that Johnny had collected over the past couple months or so. It was a lot, with not a single spot of the painted dry wall peeking through. Johnny couldn’t even remember the colour of the walls. He tried to add something each night, especially after having dreams of him being in high adrenaline situations, with gunfire and shouting and death. Yes, couldn’t forget about death.

Not tonight. Take a break tonight. Johnny was worn out and fixating would just make him feel even more tired the next day. He would be fine tomorrow, a long sleep, a good breakfast, and chilling with you. That he could live with.

Outside, he watched his old friend stare out from his front porch looking. Did Johnny know who he was looking for? Maybe. Unlikely. Just to be safe, he moved into cover, as you called Johnny into the house. He’d seen you leave from Johnny’s house more than once, and hurry home. After a while he was going to pack it in, assuming Johnny had gone to bed by now. Then Johnny did something he hadn’t expected. Johnny drew the curtains closed. There were no signs of Johnny after that, but the curtains were a sign themselves.

Johnny’s gut hadn’t changed. The drawn curtains were to keep prying eyes from looking in. What prying eyes could Johnny be avoiding? Or was it him that Johnny was concerned about?

He waited a couple hours before finally walking away, keeping himself inconspicuous as he headed to his vehicle. If Johnny was remembering it could be a good thing. The question was whether Johnny would be willing to come back after everything he’d made for himself.

After a few seconds of mulling it over Simon drove back to the safe house.

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