#fourteen down seventeen to go

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

when you were five, you stole rin’s soccer ball.

you had no malicious intention, really. but rin didn’t realize that and ended up saying some nasty things (“you’re a stupid and annoying poo-head!”) to you, which ended up had you sobbing while you explained that you were really just cleaning the ball because of the grime and dirt on it. rin ended up feeling bad and buying you an ice cream.

when you were eight, you stole rin’s glances.

he was always looking at you, and even when he was supposed to look somewhere else, his eyes stayed on you. like a moth drawn to a flame, he followed you around. he hid when he got shy, blushed when he got caught, and smiled when you talked to him. the reason for it was simple: he realized that you were pretty and nice, and so he liked you.

when you were eleven, you stole rin’s breath.

when he looked at you, his heart would quicken, he would go red, and he almost stopped breathing every time. he always found his heart skipping a beat and his breath quickening to the point where they were non-existent whenever you smiled. he didn’t understand it, it was weird. he wanted to ask sae about it, but he had already left for spain, so rin just assumed he was sick.

when you were fourteen, you stole rin’s first kiss.

it was just experimental; you had seen so many other classmates have their first kiss, and you had to admit that you felt a bit jealous. you wanted to have your first kiss too, but you wanted to save it for someone special. rin, not wanting to see you upset, awkwardly muttered that he was fine with kissing you. he didn’t know how to word it correctly, but it ended up okay in the end. you were both inexperienced and didn’t know how to kiss properly, but it was only a short and soft kiss after all.

when you were seventeen, you stole rin’s heart.

at this point, with the (unwanted) advice from stupid isagi and bachira, rin finally realized that he fell deep down the rabbit hole of being in love. his heart felt like exploding when you touched him, even if it was something as ridiculous as your fingers brushing accidentally. whenever he sees you, in all your ethereal glory, cheering for him in a game, he feels like he can score 50 more goals. the media had never seen the cold and calculating itoshi rin act like this, although the paparazzi and journalists enjoy every moment of his soft look whenever his eyes land on you.

when you were twenty, you stole rin’s virginity.

self explanatory, although rin was surprised he ever got it taken in the first place. it was an awkward first time for the both of you, and although you both had little to no idea of how the hell you do it, you both pulled through. after the session, rin only seemed to fall for you even more. even after he turned into this cold and rude soccer obsessed person, you never left him, and now you’re here, in front of him, sleeping softly in his arms after doing the most intimate things two humans can do with each other.

when you were twenty-three, you stole rin’s last name.

it was a day of tears, love, and eternality. rin’s eyes gleamed with tears when he saw you in that snow white dress, looking like the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen and ever will see. hearing someone call you by his last name, seeing you laugh and talk with his mother, seeing you holding a pastel bouquet of flowers while walking to him, they were all rin’s dream aside from winning the world cup. the shared kiss had much more experience and passion than the one from nine years ago, and you almost cried knowing just that.

finally, when you were twenty-six, you stole rin’s genetics.

okay, maybe you didn’t. he sort of gave it to you in a way…but your kids sure stole his genetics. bright teal eyes, exceptionally long underlashes, and an undeniable passion for soccer. even at 3 months old, your daughter can’t sleep without holding a soccer ball. rin has never been happier, his soccer career at it’s peak, being with his beautiful wife and daughter, and not heaving to worry about you stealing everything else, because you had already stolen everything from him.

and rin prefers it that way.

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

And my, my love had been frozen. Deep blue, but you painted me golden.

Warnings: 18+, mdni! there will be smut in the future chapters. enemies to lovers, 'she fell first, he fell harder' kind of trope, allusions to unrequited love, mentions of death, injuries, allusions to self hatred, mentions of bullying, this story is set post s4, Vecna and the upside down are gone. slow burn. ‘hate’ sex. fwb kinda thing but they’re ‘enemies’. mean!reader, mean!Steve, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?

♡

Prologue ⭐︎

Chapter one ⭐︎ Waiting Room

Chapter two ⭐︎ I want you to notice, when I’m not around

Chapter three ⭐︎ So if you need to be mean, be mean to me

Chapter four ⭐︎ Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

Chapter five ⭐︎'Cause you know it could never be

Chapter six ⭐︎ Secrets I have held in my heart

Chapter seven ⭐︎ Got a feeling your electric touch, could fill this ghost town up with life

Chapter eight ⭐︎ Say my name and everything just stops

Chapter nine ⭐︎ And I'll show you if you let me, girl

Chapter ten ⭐︎ Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Chapter eleven ⭐︎ Yeah, I know it seems surprising when there’s lipstick still on the glass

Chapter twelve ⭐︎ When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

Chapter thirteen ⭐︎ For a moment, I was heaven struck

Chapter fourteen ⭐︎ Somewhere in these eyes, I'm on your side

Chapter fifteen ⭐︎ I thought the plane was going down, how'd you turn it right around?

Chapter sixteen ⭐︎ Hold me, love me, touch me, honey

Chapter seventeen ⭐︎ What am I supposed to do? If there's no you.

Chapter eighteen ⭐︎ Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

Chapter nineteen ⭐︎ For you, I would ruin myself, a million little times

Chapter twenty ⭐︎ Tell me it's love, tell me it's real

Chapter twenty one ⭐︎ Please, I've been on my knees, change the prophecy

Chapter twenty two ⭐︎ Let the world around us just fall apart

Chapter twenty three ⭐︎ And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me

Chapter twenty four ⭐︎ I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden

Chapter twenty five ⭐︎ Who could stay? You could stay

The Epilogue ⭐︎

[hysteria-things]

smut w chris and goody 2 shoes reader who always acts so smart and innocent w people then acts like a brat to chris?

he gets sick of it and roughly fucks her into her place , caring less for her pleasure and using her just so she knows how much of a slut she is!

LESSON LEARNED

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brat tamer!chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you get taught a lesson when you act like a brat in public.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, spanking, humiliation, face fucking, dry humping, squirting, p in v, rough sex, degradation, a sprinkle of praising, overstimulation, unprotected sex (no bueno!)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,502

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: HAPPY KINKTOBER!!!

this is based off one of my blurbs from a while ago😜

your reputation to others is excellent. you’re a nice girl, who is outgoing and will always follow directions or help whoever is in need. goody two shoes is what people mostly describe you as, which isn’t that far off. however, when you’re with your significant other, your bratty side slips up.

“let me go!” you tell chris like you’re a toddler, stomping your feet while he leads you to his bedroom. “i’m being serious!”

opening the door, he lets go of your wrist to have you lead inside, yelping when his palm smacks your ass to usher you more quickly before bending you over the edge of his computer desk. pouting your lips, you hear his heavy breathing as he forcibly pulls up your skirt. you know what’s coming. your punishment.

your eyes start to well up, feeling the slightest bit bad that you acted like a brat in front of his friends, but you’re one of all things. “o-one.” you say between a sob when your boyfriend’s hand slaps your ass for the first time out of many to come tonight. you start spewing out apologies, wiggling in his grip that’s pinned your hands behind your back. “i’m sorry, okay?” you admit, his hand spanking you once more. “i didn’t mean to!”

“if you didn’t mean to you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” chris snarls back, followed by another smack. “keep counting,” he says through gritted teeth.

SPANK.

your cries echo throughout the room as he continues to punish your reddening bottom. each slap lands with accuracy, leaving its mark on your tender skin. your tears fall on your cheeks now, mixing with the stinging sensation. “seven... eight... nine!" you wail, your voice hoarse from yelling. your body shakes with each impact, trying to squirm away another time. again, no use.

his palm connects again, the force jolting you. the pain courses to your core, pussy throbbing in response with a mix of mercy and arousal. “ten! i swear i won’t do it again!” you plea, desperate for at least some sympathy. alas, chris remains careless, his anger still fresh.

he acts like he didn’t even hear your lame apology, his focus only on disciplining you for your actions. raising his hand high, he prepares himself for another smack against your now-colored rear. “eleven.” he says under his breath, starting to count for you. the sound of skin meeting skin chimes, along with your pained whimper. he pauses for a moment, letting you take a breath to let your punishment sink in — and there’s no way out of it. then, without warning, his hand comes down again, striking your already sore ass with a vicious hit.

“twelve.” chris states clearly, his tone lacking mercy. he continues this harsh pattern, each spank followed by a number. “thirteen... fourteen... fifteen...” the more he counts, the more you sob.

“sixteen… seventeen!” you take back your job, shouting after each brutal strike. your body trembles, feeling like every nerve is in pain. the heat from your bruised cheeks radiate down to your thighs and the folds of your pussy. despite being punished, you feel thrilling and excited all in one. “eighteen... nineteen... twenty!” you choke out, your voice barely audible over your heavy breathing. the tears keep streaming, skin shining from sweat.

by the time his hand falls for the twentieth time, your bottom is a crimson mess. the sting lingers, knowing it’ll be that way for days. yet, you’ve never been so turned on.

chris finally stops after the last spank, admiring his work. your ass is a beautiful shade of red, the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. he can see the arousal glistening between your thighs, a clear visual of what this has been doing for you.

with a firm grip, he grabs your hair and pulls your head back, forcing you to look at him. his eyes stare into yours, filled with a mixture of anger and desire. “what a fucking brat.” he sneers, his other hand roughly groping your numbing ass cheek. he releases your hair, pushing himself off of you with so much force you fall to the ground, landing with a thud. from the impact, your butt stings even more.

curling into a ball, you wrap your arms in front of your legs and cry softly. “i-i’m sorry, chris.” you whine, voice shaking. the humiliation of being bent over and spanked like a naughty child, combined with the intense physical sensations, leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

despite the pain, you can't ignore the ache between your legs. your cunt throbs with a need that it’s confusing. you’ve never felt this way before, and it scares you.

chris watches you on the floor, a smirk playing on his lips. he knows exactly what's going through your mind. “get up.” he snaps, standing tall and towering over you. “and get on the bed; on your knees. now.” he waits, expecting a protest, but he doesn’t receive one. that means it’s working.

once you're in position, he comes over, his cock already half hard. “if you're going to act like a brat, you'll learn how to get treated like one, too.” chris explains, running a hand through your hair. he unbuckles his jeans so they fall freely onto the floor, dick springing out right in front of you while gripping your hair and pushing his tip against your lips. “open up.”

trembling, you part your lips, allowing chris to guide his thick cock past them. the taste of pre-cum fills your mouth as he thrusts deeper, hitting the back of your throat. “mmph.” you gag slightly around his length, eyes glossy. you don’t pull away, of course. instead, you relax your jaw to accommodate him.

he sets a steady pace, fucking your face with elongated strokes. each snap of the hips sends vibrations through your head, making your nose pressed against his pelvis. your hands grasp at the sheets below, wanting to hold onto something since he’s in full domination. you’re uncomfortable, but your pussy continues to clench with need, juices dripping down your thighs. without thinking, you start humping the blanket to try and get friction on your clit like a bitch in heat.

groaning in satisfaction as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, he can feel your throat tighten around him, fighting to breathe around his girth. “that’s it, take it all.” he grunts, holding your head in place as he ruts in and out of your stretched lips. “this is what brats like you deserve.”

taking his free hand, he reaches down to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. the sight of you, tear-streaked and submissive, only makes him want more. noticing your desperate humping, he chuckles deeply. “look at you, getting off like a pretty little thing. you do enjoy this, don't you?”

you moan muffled around chris’ cock as he continues to use your mouth, driving you wild. “mmph! mmph!” you manage to respond, nodding frantically at his question. your hips buck harder against the bed, chasing the friction your clit needs. your pussy clenches tightly, a clear substance gushing out to soak the bedding beneath you.

seeing you drench the sheets, he grins, knowing he's pushed you to ultimate submission. he speeds up his thrusts, fucking your face with more power. “yeah.” he grunts, watching you fall apart beneath him. “you filthy slut. show me how much you love taking this dick like a good little whore.”

his words are degrading, but you enjoy the hell out of it. your mind goes blank, focusing on the feeling of his cock in your mouth and the desperate need pulsing between your thighs. sensing your climax, he pulls out abruptly, leaving you gasping for air and drooling. before you can recover, he flips you over onto your back and yanks your legs apart.

panting heavily, you stare up at chris in a daze, your body still shaking from the intensity of the previous actions. the sudden loss of his dick in your mouth leaves you feeling empty. you. want. more.

the exposing of your dripping cunt has his eyes widen, as if he’s a kid in a candy shop. “jesus, chris.” you whimper, feeling ashamed by how pathetic you seem right now. “please.” you’re desperate, not even sure what you're begging for anymore. release? punishment? his harsh words? all you know is that you’re craving every bit of him.

chris takes in the sight of your exposed, fluttering hole, his horniness shooting straight to his dick. “you want it?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the swollen slit of your pussy. “you want my cock inside you; stretching out every inch of this needy pussy?”

when you’re about to answer, he lines himself up and plows in deep, burying himself in one stroke. a guttural groan rips from his chest at the tightness gripping him. “holy shit, you were made for this.” chris exhales, each pump of his hips driving him impossibly deeper. “taking my cock like the perfect slut you are.”

a sharp cry tickles your throat as he thrusts into you, the sudden stretch sending waves of pleasure and pain through your core. your nails dig into the sheets as he fucks you, each ruthless thrust hitting that sweet spot inside you and sending stars flying behind your eyelids. “yeah! oh, fuck, yeah!” you shout, your hips bucking fast to meet his brutal rhythm. “making me feel so good!”

the filthy words spill from your lips before it’s too late, fueled by the overwhelming pleasure you’re experiencing. you’ve never felt so full. his cock is hard inside you, pounding repeatedly against your cervix with each stroke.

his eyes flash with possession as he rails into you, living for the way your cunt clenches around him, gripping him deep. his balls slap against your ass with every violent thrust, the lewd sound mixing with your wanton cries. “mhm, scream for me.” he says, angling his hips to hit your g-spot just right. “let everyone hear what a cock sleeve you are for me.”

leaning down to your chest, he takes a nipple and swirls his tongue around it. his other hand snakes between your bodies to rub circles over your clit, wanting to push you over the edge. “cum on my cock, you filthy girl.” chris demands, his voice filled with lust.

each bite to your nipple sends sparks of ecstasy through your veins while his stimulation on your clit has you close to the brink of release. “oh god, oh god! i’m-i’m gonna—” your words turn into incoherent babbling as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. your pussy clamps down viciously on his length, milking him as your body shakes and becomes limp beneath him.

the grip on your clit tightens, prolonging your pleasure as he chases his release. with a final, sharp thrust, he buries himself and cums inside you, filling your spasming cunt with his seed. his cock throbs with each string until he collapses on top of you, his weight pushing you further into the mattress. “fuck, that was amazing.” he pants, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “and it’s all for me.” he whispers in your ear, referring to your body.

after a moment of silence, he pulls out with a wet pop. a trail of cum flows, painting your thighs with its sticky substance. he rolls off of you with a satisfied smile, but bites his lip when he spots his cum on you. “turn around and show me that pretty ass.”

“what—” you’re cut off when he guides you on your hands and knees, in the position he wants you in. his favorite; ass up with your pussy on full display. a shiver runs down your spine. it was silly to think you were getting off the hook that easy.

he shifts behind you, hands grasping your thighs as he aligns himself between your spread legs. one finger traces the marks he left earlier, your hips backing into him unknowingly. “so eager. tell me what you need, slut. beg for it.” he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance, letting you feel his growing erection.

chris waits patiently, your body practically calling his name to be filled again. he can see the desperation in the way you arch your back, presenting yourself even more. “you know what to say.” he points out. “i want to hear those dirty words from your smart mouth.”

he delivers a sharp smack to one cheek, watching the flesh jiggle and flush pink under the force. he massages the sting away, waiting for you to give him what he wants. “please, chris.” you pout, feeling embarrassed about how at this moment you can’t live without his cock. “please, fuck me again, baby. use me however you want.” it seems like you don’t know who you are anymore. hours ago you were tough and mighty, but now you’re small and submissive.

pulling you back against him, he lines up his dick with your soaked sex. “that’s it, princess.” he says, his breath hot against your ear. “swallowing my cock like the good girl i know.”

bullying himself inside of your used hole, your eyes roll back from being filled with him again. just as before, you wrap deliciously around him. he sets a quick pace, the sound of your bodies conjoining bouncing off of the walls. “you’re still so tight.” he hisses.

your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he slams into you, the wideness spreading you open and hitting spots you didn't know existed. it’s almost too much, but you love it. “yes! yes! yes!” you cry out, meeting each of his powerful thrusts. “h-harder.”

the explicit sounds of your guys’ love making fill the air, conjoining with your moans and the slap of skin. you can feel another orgasm building, your walls fluttering wildly around his base. “do-don’t stop. don't ever stop.” you babble incoherently, lost in the trance of ecstasy. “i’m g-gonna—”

feeling your gummy walls squeeze around him, chris is determined to bring you to release. “cum for me.” he insists, brunette strands sticking to his forehead. “come on, give it to me.”

he can feel his own high approaching, his balls tightening as he nears. he holds back, wanting to put you before him. walls spasming, your moans become a higher pitch. “i’m cumming! fuck, i’m—” you don’t finish your sentence when the familiar ring of white moves down his shaft. chris fills you up one more time shortly after, ropes of cum shooting into your womb.

exhausted is an understatement. you know damn well you’re going to be walking from side to side for days, possibly weeks. “i love you so fucking much.” he breathes from next to you, kissing your shoulder. you hum in response, shutting your eyes. if that didn’t make you learn your lesson, you don’t know what will.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @freshsturns @etershine @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @deareststurns

[juyeoz]

˙ㅤ۪ 𓂋 FOR THE PLOT! — AN 02z SMAU

∿ THE PLOT IN QUESTION 📁 A crush from kindergarten, a classmate from second to fifth grade who you refused to admit you liked (even with a blushing face), and a childhood friend you never saw in any other way surrounded your school life. What if, the three boys you had forgotten about return to your life, and you can’t help but fall for all of them? Also, what if your feelings for these boys all existed at the same time?

∿ 📢 CASTING ≋ childhood-crush!jay, childhood-crush!jake, childhood-friend!sunghoon x fem!reader (ft. 02z + niki from enhypen, chaewon and yunjin from le sserafim, karina from aespa, juyeon and sunwoo from tbz, sohee from riize, nayeon from twice, rei from ive, seoyeon from fromis_9, belle from kiof, zhanghao from zb1, taehyun from txt, taeyoung from cravity, jaemin from nct dream, mingi from ateez, choi yena, and includes mention of other idols too)

∿ GENRES 🔗 › smau + written, childhood crushes/friends to lovers, highschool au, nonidol au, reverse but not so reverse harem, fluff, angst, and crack.

∿ CONTAINS 🔍 profanity, 02z aren’t the same age, random timestamps, kys/kms jokes, joking threats, no official faceclaim but images may be used, y/n goes on dates w all three boys (diff days), and y/n is lwk leading them on but they don’t get heartbroken (??).

∿ SCHEDULE 📰 ongoing (updates are everyday)

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

PROFILES › ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

CHAPTER ONE — let you break my heart again

CHAPTER TWO — WHAT THE FUCK IS TRIPLE BALL

CHAPTER THREE — chronicles of narnia 2 (0.6k words)

CHAPTER FOUR — jake?????? like nerdy boy jake?????

CHAPTER FIVE — #ResortToDominican

CHAPTER SIX — clock it

CHAPTER SEVEN — so basically diva down

CHAPTER EIGHT — cute 😊

CHAPTER NINE — need him miss him want him 💔💔

CHAPTER TEN — calm luh facial structure (0.4k words)

CHAPTER ELEVEN — MONTHLY REUNION (0.4k words)

CHAPTER TWELVE — for the 𝖕𝖑𝖚𝖍

CHAPTER THIRTEEN — a date?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN — “nah id win” ahh reply 😭🙏

CHAPTER FIFTEEN — panda enthusiast

CHAPTER SIXTEEN — keep laughing.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — blue icing cupcakes (0.6k words)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — keep yourself on ur toenails

CHAPTER NINETEEN — SIKEEE YOU THOUGHT 😂😂🫵

CHAPTER TWENTY — because i know i did

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — cute ay eff!

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO — even as a joke

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — my fave soccer play

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — #ourbad

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — white roses (1.2k words)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX — i’m sorry (1.0k words)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN — start running hoon!!!!!

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT — FUCK YOU MR LEE

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE — death of him (1.2k words)

CHAPTER THIRTY — don’t hit him up 😆

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE — loving you from a distance

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO — mabagal (1.3k words)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE — U DOWNBAD FREAK

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR — Join me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE — UNSTOPPABLE FR 😂😂😂

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX — single and NOT able to mingle

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN — in love or mentally ill

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT — gave a fuck

CHAPTER THIRY-NINE — i’m going to reply to

ENDINGS (FORTY) — SUNGHOON JAKE JAY

COMPLETED!

© JUYEOZ

[rosiecosy]

trust no one˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(seventeen x reader)

"okay. ground rules."

seungcheol folds his arms, scanning the circle of fourteen people seated in the dorm’s living room. the energy in the room is already buzzing—mingyu is bouncing his knee, soonyoung is practically vibrating with excitement, and you? you’re trying to figure out who looks the most suspicious before the game even starts.

"no actual fighting," jeonghan adds, looking pointedly at you and seungkwan.

you scoff. "that was one time."

seungkwan crosses his arms. "you threw a pillow at me."

"because you were obviously the mafia and lying straight to my face!"

"okay, okay," joshua interrupts, already tired. "can we just play?"

wonwoo shuffles the deck and starts dealing the cards. one by one, the boys pick them up, eyes flickering with anticipation. when your turn comes, you take your card carefully, flipping it open just enough to see.

mafia.

oh.

you school your expression, keeping your face neutral as you place your card face down on your lap.

"alright," vernon leans back, surveying the group. "who looks the most guilty?"

immediately, minghao points at dino. "he smiled weird. it's him."

"what—" dino splutters. "i always smile like this!"

"yeah, that’s why it’s weird," jun adds.

"can we at least go through the night phase first?" seokmin pleads, already giggling.

seungcheol sighs. "fine. everyone, close your eyes."

you shut your eyes, listening as he guides the game.

"mafia, wake up."

you blink your eyes open and look around. mingyu and jeonghan meet your gaze. oh, this is too good.

"who do you want to kill?"

you, jeonghan, and mingyu exchange a glance. then, without hesitation, you all silently point at soonyoung.

sorry, tiger.

seungcheol stifles a chuckle. "mafia, close your eyes. doctor, wake up."

you keep your face completely still as the game moves on, waiting until the morning phase begins.

"everyone, wake up."

soonyoung stretches, rubbing his eyes. "okay, who died?"

seungcheol clears his throat dramatically. "soonyoung, you have been eliminated."

"WHAT."

chaos immediately erupts.

"you guys killed me first?!" soonyoung shrieks, clutching his chest like he’s been personally betrayed.

jeonghan, ever the actor, sighs. "tragic. the best of us, gone too soon."

"i bet it was seungkwan," seokmin accuses.

"EXCUSE ME?!"

as everyone starts shouting accusations, you sit back, hiding your grin behind your hand.

this is going to be fun.

[searchingforserendipity25]

conclave is a very good film made up of cardinal thomas lawrence having three horrible horrible days.

however the one thing it lacks is the consideration of how much worse they could have been if it lasted longer.

day four of conclave and the draw between tedesco and lawrence does not budge.

five days of conclave and at least one of the cardinals whose name got covered up in the trembley report backs lawrence against the wall and tries to threaten him with a kitchen knife before falling to weeping on his shoulder. day six of conclave and cardinal adeyemi and cardinal trembley nearly come to blows in the loggia. day seven of conclave and people start sneaking wine bottles into the sistine chapel.

day eight and they're passing them around covertly during the interminable voting process. day nine and three separate white collar crimes come to light because the guilty parties are sweating in their cassocks thinking lawrence has the dirt on them and they can't take the pressure anymore, they just can't.

day ten and vincent benítez is doing quiet prayer catechism hour in the garden after lunch.

day eleven and sabbadin is snorting someone's vicodin in the bathroom.

day twelve and the cardinals for warsaw and budapest are having a terrible breakup everyone is trying to pretend not to notice. day thirteen and lawrence stays in his room the whole day pretending he has a stomach ache and keeps having his nap dreams interrupted by dreams of turtles.

day fourteen and aldo bellini has brought his copy of giovanni's room to reread, half-heatedly hidden behind a bible cover.

day fifteen and vincent benítez has lead by example a number of cardinals into helping out in the kitchen at least once a week to frankly terrible culinary results and growing camaraderie.

sixteen days of conclave and lawrence has to sit down ray o'malley and actively beg him not to tell him anything else, please, no more info, no more digging into old scandals, no nothing.tedesco's tax audits may be suspiciously clean but lawrence is a man of god not a forensic attorney and he will not dig deeper.

day seventeen and lawence tracks o'malley down and asks him to look into tedesco's brother's recent real estate acquisitions.

day eighteen and the new whisper campaign to discredit lawrence keeps trying to bring up his most controversial progressive views but he keeps answering impatiently back with well-thought of biblical references as he did in the homily and accidentally causes a reprise of his canon law school lecture debates. which temporarily brings everyone together and opens the stage for a fierce ideological debate.

wherein lawrence gets accused, not entirely inaccurately, by trembley and adeyemi, united once more in offense, of being the last figurehead for the complacent liberal establishment/a judgemental prig and/or treating the college of cardinals like a group of jumped-up seminarians.

aldo bellini implies very loudly that tedesco is ugly, a fascist and too stupid to ever be invited to lecture at the sourbonne even once, and cardinal vincent benítez speaks up with great dignity and strength against american imperialism.

day nineteen and someone actively tries to murder the patriarch of venice. day twenty and it is revealed via sister agnes ex machina and cardinal benítez's disconcerting familiarity with very real and more successful murder attempts that tedesco was trying to frame bellini for it.

the proof is circumstantial and so are any accusations lawrence or anyone could make against him of corruption, but this does prompt him to go on a long speech about how the leftist agenda has thoroughly ruined not only the church but society at least and made any possible unity among men a sham.

day twenty-one and someone actually dies, unrelated to the tedesco fake-plot.

day twenty-two and they elect vincent benítez. lawrence hides in the room of tears having an anxiety attack of relief.

vincent benítez holds his hand tenderly through it and immediately accepts his resignation as dean but not before telling him his secret and having his hands held back tightly, and being told very earnestly that, short of actual unreasonable harm to other people and an extraordinary amount of bribery, he could be made by god's will in any possible variation and still have lawrence's trust. and most importantly, lawrence's papacy.

day one of innocentius xiv's papacy and lawrence finds him in the gardens feeding the turtles instead of taking the next train to a nice monastery in liège and offers himself as secretary of state. and this is why netflix should hire me.

[finelinefae]

tongue-tied

synopsis: y/n has a stutter and harry likes to hear her talk

word count: 3.1k

contains: fluff, highschool romance, harry's a football player, popular boy x shy girl, brief mentions of bullying

a/n: happy soft girl Sunday !! I wasn’t planning on posting just because I posted the second part of the aviator a little later than I was meant to but I could resist putting this one out <3

. . .

“E-excuse me!” Y/N weaved her way through the mass exodus of students heading in the opposite direction to the lunch hall. She had tried to leave class a few minutes before the lunch bell to avoid the large groups of people but she had been so invested in writing her essay, she’d lost complete track of time. 

She was running as fast as she possibly could to get to the library, knowing the person waiting for her wouldn’t get too impatient but she didn’t want to waste a second of their lunch break not being with him. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, her braids flying behind her and her knee-high socks falling down her calves. 

Y/N barely registered the people around her, wondering where she could be going in such a rush, until her face collided with soft, grey fabric. Before she could even get embarrassed and profusely have to apologise for bumping into them, long arms snaked around her, hands clasping behind her back. She caught a whiff of his woody cologne and the floral fragranced detergent his mum always used to wash his school uniform.

“There y’ are, Dove.” He murmured, “I was starting to get worried.”

Y/N looked up and settled on those familiar green eyes she loved so much. She relaxed into his embrace, “Harry,” She sighed. 

Harry and Y/N had been dating since they were fourteen. If it weren’t for the fact that their parents all worked together at the local hospital, they probably would never have met at all, although Harry liked to believe they were fated to be together so they would have ended up meeting each other some way or another. 

Harry had always been popular at school. For one, he was on the football team which instantly made him a name within their year group. He was also very handsome for his age. Girls would whisper and giggle whenever he passed by in the hallways even those from the lower years. Despite the fact they had just turned seventeen, Harry could honestly pass for an almost twenty-year-old with how tall and mature he was. 

Y/N was the complete opposite. When it came to her social life she was shy and not often one to make friends easily. She was part of the arithmetic club and had made a few friends there and in some of her other classes. She liked to keep to herself and struggled to talk in class not only because she was quiet but also because she had a particularly bad stutter. 

It had developed when she started High School. She had been to multiple speech therapists to help her get rid of it and although it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, it still never failed to make her life all the more difficult than it already was.

A lot of the other kids liked to pick on her for it too. Whenever teachers picked on her in class and she’d reply, the rest of the class would start snickering, whispering in each other’s ears. She wanted to be invisible to everyone but it was her stutter that made her stand out.

When Harry’s family would come over to Y/N’s house for dinner, her parents would often force them to go off together whilst the adults spoke in the dining room. She remembered the first time she invited him into her room and how embarrassed she was when he saw all her comic books lying on the floor that she had forgotten to put away. But it eventually became the seed of their relationship, the common ground that allowed them to bond. 

Soon Harry was inviting Y/N to his football games and up to his room every other weekend when she’d come over with her parents. They’d exchange comic books and talk about their favourite characters. Y/N was always apologising for her stutter whenever she’d ramble on for too long but Harry never cared, he loved hearing her talk. 

Their first kiss was on her bed whilst their parents were in the room below them. Harry was the one to initiate it and Y/N hadn’t been expecting it so it was slightly awkward at first but then she got used to it and eventually all she ever wanted to do was kiss him. Every weekend, whether at her place or his, all they did was sneak around and kiss each other, giggling and falling in love all at the same time. 

Now, three years later, things were still the same except they were older now and more in love than they were yesterday. 

Wherever you looked, Harry was there, and Y/N was never too far behind. Students had grown accustomed to their relationship, and the bullying Y/N endured wasn't as severe as it used to be. Even teachers couldn't help but be enamoured with their young love — how fortunate it was to find love at such a young age. 

Things were great, everything was great and Y/N had hoped she could finish her last year of High School on a high note. That was until she entered her English class on a Friday afternoon when the teacher announced it was time for their presentations which would go towards their final grade. 

“I can’t Harry!” Y/N cried into her pillow after school, Harry was sitting on the end of her bed with his back against the wall as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. 

“I know Dove,” He comforted her, already knowing the reason she was so upset over it.

“Everyone’s going to l-laugh at me,” She could already picture herself standing up in front of her class and everyone pointing and laughing at her. 

Harry sighed, “Dove,” He shook her gently, “Will y’ look at me?” 

Y/N hesitated before turning her head so her cheek lay against the pillow. Harry smiled and lay on his side in the spot next to her, their faces inches apart, “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed, his heart hurting at the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her cheek in his big hand and wiped some of those tears away with his thumb. 

“I-It’s not fair,” She huffed, “Why’d I have to have this stupid stutter.” 

“Hey,” He frowned, “Enough of that hmm? Everything about you is beautiful, y’ know I love to hear y’ talk. Could sit here for hours and just listen.” 

“But you’re d-different,” She whined, shuffling closer to him so she could hide her face in his grey jumper. Her stutter was rarely ever that bad in front of Harry which was why he was the easiest person she could talk to. 

Harry laughed breathily, his hand going to her hair to play with the strands, “Would it help if I helped you a little?” 

“How?” Y/N asked, her words muffled by his jumper.

“We could practise in the library at lunch, y’ could read me a few things and it might help your stutter.”  He thought.

Y/N’s head looked up to his face where she could count every mole and freckle on his nose and cheeks. She couldn’t help but pucker her lips to kiss his jawline, “That’d be nice,” She murmured. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head in return, “I only want to help you so if you don’t enjoy it or you’d rather practise alone then y’ can tell me,” 

She shook her head, “N-No, I want to do that with you. I’d like it very much.” 

So it became a daily occurrence, five days a week during lunch hours when Harry didn’t have practice, they’d sit in the library and Harry would pick out a book for them to read. They started with simple YA books with less complicated words. 

“Good job, Dove!” Harry cheered every time Y/N finished a chapter. 

“Wait I’m not done,” She huffed and then said the last line just for Harry to cheer for her again just as proudly as the first time. 

Now that the day of her presentation was getting closer, they had finally made their way onto Classical novels which Y/N had come to despise. 

They walked with their hands intertwined to the library after Y/N had bumped into him in the hallway. It was natural as they stepped into the library and headed straight to their table in the corner hidden away by two tall bookshelves. 

Y/N placed her bag under the chair whilst Harry unzipped his to pull out the book they were currently reading. It was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, even looking at the front cover made Y/N’s stomach turn. 

“A-Are you sure we can’t go back to YA books?” Y/N huffed, taking the book and opening it up to the chapter they were last on. 

Harry laughed, “But you’re doing so well, Dovey.” 

“I-it’s hard though and the w-words are so tiny.” She pouts, Harry can’t help but lean forward and kiss her. 

“C’mon, jus’ a few pages and then I can show y’ something I got for you.” He tried to persuade her, knowing the surprise would be enough to win her over.

“Fine,” She sighs dramatically. 

She read for five pages, Harry listening intently to every word. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, stumbling over a few words here and there. He tried to hold back from smiling so much with how concentrated she was on each letter of every word. He thought it was adorable how her eyebrows creased and her hands gripped the book. 

Eventually, she had enough, placing the book down on the table and closing it shut. “Good job baby!” He cheered, pressing multiple kisses to her cheek, “M so proud of you.” 

Y/N giggled, “Thank you, Harry.” 

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his blazer for the surprise he had promised her. Y/N looked down and saw a small, black pouch in his hand. He gave it to her, her fingers carefully pulling on the ribbon before pulling out the small item inside. 

“It’s an anxiety ring,” Harry explained as she held the silver ring in the palm of her hand. He picked it up and slid it on his pinkie finger to show her, “Y’ can twist this band whenever you feel nervous, thought y’ could wear it on the day of your speech.” 

He passed it back to her, Y/N narrowing her eyes to look at the spinning band which had a small inscription written on it, ‘i love the way you speak almost as much as i love you, your harry.’ 

Y/N’s eyes watered, unable to come up with the right words to say how much she adored it as well as the boy sitting in front of her. Instead, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” She murmured, “I love it. I love you.” 

Harry softened even more from her embrace, “I love you more, Dove,” He whispered. 

Y/N pulled away enough to kiss his lips, she was thankful for the privacy they had in the back of the library since she was never that good with public displays of affection and all she wanted to do now was kiss him because she was so grateful for him being there all the time. 

It wasn’t long before the day of her presentation. After school, Y/N had been working on a short essay. She was going to speak to the class about her favourite comic books and why she loved them so much. She had recited the words out loud to herself and Harry and even her parents, that she could probably speak it off by heart. 

Harry and Y/N stood outside the school. Her English class wasn’t until the third period but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in her morning classes until the presentation was over. Harry was wearing his football uniform because he had a game against another school in the morning. Y/N had been with him after school as he practised for it, wearing his coat as she wrote out her speech on a notepad. 

They stood side by side facing the school building as if it was some kind of beast they had to tackle, “O-okay,” She huffed, “I can do this,” 

Harry looked down at her smiling and then reached for her hand, “You can do this,” He squeezed her fingers in encouragement. 

“Good l-luck with your game today,” She grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

“Thank you, baby,” He spoke softly, “Y’ can tell me all about your presentation and how well it went afterwards.”

“Okay Harry,” She nodded, completely determined despite how nervous she was. She had spent weeks preparing, she couldn’t let fear get the best of her. 

“Good luck kiss?” Harry grinned, cheekily. 

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and craned her neck to kiss his lips. Harry held her face in his hands, unable to pull away from her even when she tried to, “I love you,” He murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” She sighed, blissfully. 

When third period came around, Y/N stood outside her English classroom, counting to five in her head. She clutched onto the piece of paper where her speech was written out in gelled ink, spinning the ring Harry had gifted her on her finger. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped foot into her classroom. 

. . .

Harry could hardly concentrate during the football match but he was trying his best. His team were two points ahead and it wouldn’t be long before the game was over. Since it was the morning and the game was mostly practice for the two schools competing, there wasn’t a huge audience watching them. 

He was glancing down at his watch every few minutes when he was supposed to have his eye on the ball, checking to see whether third period was about to start. All he could think about was his little dove and how nervous she was when they stepped into school this morning. 

She had been working so hard on reading things out, even stopping in shops when they went to town together to read the labels on the backs of food containers. He fully believed in her and her ability to speak in front of the class even when she didn’t and it killed him not being able to watch her do it. 

So when the whistle finally blew marking the end of the game, Harry ignored the celebrations with his team after they won the match and ran across the field through the entrance of the school. He raced up the steps, his football boots clicking against the crowd. He knew he probably didn’t smell the best and his knees were muddy from falling over but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he searched for Y/N’s English classroom. 

“Y/N?” He heard the teacher’s voice call her name as he approached. 

“A-Already? O-Oh, O-okay.” He could hear her nerves just by listening to her speak. 

Harry was about to knock on the door but he hesitated, wondering if it would worsen her nerves if he was in the classroom watching her. He knew how much of a big deal this moment was for Y/N and he didn’t want to intervene or make a spectacle of the moment especially since he wasn’t in her class. 

He lowered his hand and instead pressed his ear up to the door. 

“H-Hello,” Y/N started, “My name is Y-Y/N and today I will be sharing with you m-my love for comic books,” Harry’s heart ached as her voice came out quietly. 

“C’mon Dove,” He whispered, wanting her to do well. 

Y/N cleared her throat and let out a shaky exhale, “A-As you can probably tell, I-I am not all that good at speaking. I s-stumble over letters and sometimes even have to replace words with o-others because my mouth t-turns into mash potato and I can’t seem to get t-the words out.” People chuckled and Harry’s heart began to beat against his chest, “T-That is why I love comic books so much because of the l-lack of words. Instead, there are pictures,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength the more that she spoke, “T-They tell stories without the need for p-perfect sentences or flawless speech.” 

Y/N continued her speech and Harry spent the entire presentation with his ear pressed up against the door. He ignored the looks of teachers and other students walking past as a huge grin spread across his cheeks the more Y/N spoke in front of the class. 

By the time she had finished, it fell silent before the class responded with a round of applause, “Brilliant work, Y/N,” Her teacher said. 

Y/N felt like she was floating on a cloud as she left her English classroom. Even if her speech wasn’t perfect, she had done it and gotten through it all in one piece. As she stepped out, two arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off the ground, “Harry!” Y/N giggled as he spun her around.

“M so proud of you, Dove.” He kissed her softly, lowering her to the ground but refusing to move his hands from her waist. 

“I-I can’t believe I did it, Harry!” Y/N almost squealed. 

“Heard every word, y’ did so good, M so proud of you.” He rambled, unable to cease his admiration for her. 

“You heard?” Y/N’s eyebrows creased, her lips pouting slightly. 

“I ran here as fast as I could and stood outside to listen to you,” Harry explained, “Y did perfect, honestly, the best speech I’ve ever heard.”

“You really ran h-here to listen?” Y/N asked, still in disbelief.

“I did,” Harry smiled, “It was all I could think about when I was on the field.”

“Did you win?” Y/N asked. 

Harry pulled her flush against him, “You already know I did baby,” He smirked, kissing her. Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Harry murmured, “To celebrate.”

“And do w-what?” Y/N wondered, even though the idea of spending any time with Harry was always her favourite. 

“Maybe go to the bowling alley and get dinner after,” He shrugs.

“O-oh and maybe we can stop at the comic book store on the way home!” Y/N said, excitedly. 

“Course m’love,” Harry’s smile widened the more she spoke, “We can do whatever you want as long as I get to hear you talk.” 

Y/N grinned broadly as Harry interlaced his hands with hers, feeling the cool metal of her ring against his skin. Together, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, Y/N unable to stop talking the entire time, while Harry hung onto her every word.

[webbluvrsugar]

Spencer Reid x Shy bau!reader: trying to work together.

cw: drabble, fluff, fools in love, mutual pining, you’re both in love and you both can’t see it.

You’re stuck alone in a small kid’s bedroom, pink pillows and princess bedsheets, toys all over the room along with books thrown on the floor, a broken window and a missing plush, you’re supposed to be investigating, but it’s almost like the presence of each other is just too distracting.

The team knows how your two feel for each other even without words needed, the glances you give at each other, the mutual pining that’s been going for months, they’re a bunch of profilers, they see it, and you two are profilers too, you should see it. But you don’t, which led to being put together in cases more times than you could count.

“Reid.” You nod for him to come closer, he does, but not after fumbling with a small toy on his hands, almost letting it fall in the process before putting it on its rightful place on the little girl’s shelf.

When he’s next to you, hands clammy on his gloves, suddenly sweatier than they were, taking just a few more steps without realising and suddenly the room feels tight, you’re both really close to each other, he can see the light flush on your cheeks but brushes it off for another different reason, maybe you have allergies or something, who knows?

“I f — found this.” You smile briefly before raising the it up on his face, a glass shard with hints of blood.

Spencer nods, mostly staring at your face than anything else as you look at him expectantly, clearing his throat before speaking.

“Yeah it… has blood in it, that’s — that’s good for the case.” He pulls out a plastic ziplock bag, handing it to you so you can place it there, closing it for you in the process.

“Let’s just hope it’s the unsub’s.” You flash him another smile again, he nods one more time with you.

You both stay silent, he’s looking over at you and you at him, his body towers over yours, you can feel your heart beating consistently, he parts his lips as if he’s about to say something, but you’re both interrupted by Hotch calling you.

“We should — We should…” you point towards the door.

“Yeah, let’s just.. go.” He nods, you walk away in front of him, he follows behind you.

When you’re both back at the bau, you’re talking to JJ and he’s on the other side of the room, sitting in front of Morgan, staring at you, because he really doesn’t know how but he just can’t get you off his mind. He sips on his coffee, Derek notices where his gaze is thrown at, one of his eyebrow raises, it’s almost like you’re too blind to realise what he’s looking at.

“Pretty boy,” Morgan smirks, Spencer turns his gaze right to you. “Go to her.”

“What? No that’s… she’s talking to JJ, I’m just not gonna go to her and..” he’s quickly interrupted by the man in front of him, who’s clearly skeptical.

“Just go, man.” Derek grabs his mug of coffee, slowly pushing him to him before sitting down.

Spencer finds himself walking towards you, gulping nervously as you turn to him, his eyes going to yours before going down to your other features, the soft plush of your lips, your cheeks, the hair that frames your face.

“Hi.” He speaks, JJ raises an eyebrow, turning to you.

“Hey.” You respond, it’s simple, a single word just like him, the blonde understands and makes a move to leave you two.

“Would you… would you uhm..” he sighs, gripping on to the hem of his sweater. “Would you like to grab lunch with me?”

You turn red almost immediately, turning silent in the process, Spencer slightly frowns, waiting for your answer, it’s been just thirteen seconds and he’s already thinking this is a bad idea, fourteen and you’re still quiet, fifteen, he’s starting to think you don’t even like him and then finally seventeen until you answer.

“Yes, I —“ You chuckle, a bright smile showing from your lips. “I would love that.”

He smiles with you, extends his hand for you to grab it, you do, fingers locking with his in a heartwarming motion, taking slow steps to the exit.

“So, what would you like to eat?” You ask as you keep walking to the elevator.

“Whatever you want to.”

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL MASTERLIST

genres: coming of age, slice of life, strangers to lovers, angst, comfort, fluff, slow burn | status: complete

PART ONE. desperate to find a place to stay, your former high school friend ji-yeong let’s you crash at her apartment for the week. but things get complicated when her roommate doesn’t seem too happy about your arrival.

PART TWO. time is ticking but sae-byeok seems to grow more irritated by your existence meanwhile you come face to face with the secret you’ve been holding onto.

PART THREE. sae-byeok gets a concerning call from her brother while you start to get paranoid of yesterdays events.

PART FOUR. after facing an intense altercation, it leads you to another one of sae-byeok’s interrogation.

PART FIVE. your late night talk with the stone face girl unexpectedly turns sour.

PART SIX. you confront your classmate, determined to make her ex leave you alone.

PART SEVEN. things start crumbling down.

PART EIGHT. you’ve gone off the grid. however, your short lived presence finds a way to haunt sae-byeok.

PART NINE. you reunite with the ones who helped you from the start, hoping for a fresh start.

PART TEN. just when you start to feel closer to Sae-byeok, she tries pushing you away after having doubts of her character.

PART ELEVEN. after countless attempts of trying to reach out to you, you finally decide it’s time to meet up with your parents which leads to a bitter resolution. and not wanting to be alone with this grief, you decide to join cheol and sae-byeok to forget.

PART TWELVE. when ji-yeong goes missing you and sae-byeok go on a fever dream goose chase.

PART THIRTEEN. in a weird turn of events, sae-byeok tries to comfort those around her.

PART FOURTEEN. restless and filled with conflicted emotions, you and sae-byeok take a midnight stroll.

PART FIFTEEN. for the last day of the semester, you have to become the bearer of bad news.

PART SIXTEEN. you and sae-byeok’s plan to sneak back into your apartment goes haywire, all in the midst of your conflicting feelings towards her.

PART SEVENTEEN. sae-byeok has been ignoring you for a couple of days and you have to find a way to confront her.

PART EIGHTEEN. before your ultimate departure, you spend your last moments with sae-byeok.

PART NINETEEN. you come back with an anxious ridden feeling that becomes worse as time goes by—all because of the stone faced girl.

PART TWENTY. when the truth unfolds, are you ready to face it?

[brothersfuck]

Sam, at six years old, is excited to go to school. He thinks he'll meet new friends. John tells both him and Dean to watch their backs and walk to school. Monday to Friday. Dean is only ten but he walks Sam to class and picks him up too. Sam holds Dean's hand tight, and Dean just smiles at him with no words said.

Sam, at eight years old, finds out why John is really always out. He thinks school is his only escape from home, and as long as Dean is there, no matter how many schools they go to, he'll be okay. Dean is twelve now, and he's hanging out with girls more than usual, but Sam can understand it. No one likes boring, and Dean is supposed to be cool. Sam thinks Dean is cool. Dean doesn't pick him up anymore.

Sam, at fourteen, hates school. Dean tries to coax him out by telling him he'll be by his side all the time, and Sam only curls further into the balled up position he's pushed his skin and bones into, for warmth, he says. For familiarity. Dean is eighteen now, and this is the first time in a week that he's come back home. Sam can't bring himself to look at Dean.

Sam, at seventeen, realizes that nowhere is home enough, and he'll never be able to fit in. His dad rarely comes home and Dean is out for weeks now; in bars picking up girls, scamming people for their money at pool. Sometimes both Dean and Dad are home, and Sam thinks it'll be much easier if he did it when both of them are here. He confesses he's going to stanford, and John tells him he has no place in this family. He's free. He feels it in his gut.

Sam, at twenty-three, has a knife lodged in his spine, and he wishes he could curl back into his balled up position. Dean tries to coax him out one last time, and Sam doesn't answer just like he did at eight. Dean cradles him like he used to when he was six, and Sam's hand comes up to squeeze Dean's. Dean let's out a sob. Sam isn't warm anymore, just like when he was seventeen.

Dean, at twenty-seven, lays Sam down on the old worn bed, lifts his cold arm up and shovels himself underneath the space he made to be closer to his little brother. There's the silent flick of the safety going off. And Bobby finds them that way.

[supernovafics]

•*⁀➷ ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. ❞✭・

supernovafics!

✭•*⁀➷ a modern fake dating steve harrington series ·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

in which a friendship is surprisingly born in an elevator, and a crush that feels hopeless is developed very soon after that. for what feels like forever, you debate whether or not you should be honest with eddie and see if he maybe feels the same way as you. but, you upsettingly miss your chance to say anything when he gets into a relationship with someone that’s not you. ultimately, you decide to push everything you feel to the side so that you don’t potentially ruin everything between you and him; because at the end of the day, he’s still your best friend. now, two years later, things have changed— there’s a break up, reignited feelings, and pining that feels worse and even more helpless this time around. a blind date leads to you fake dating some guy you barely even know with the hopes of finally getting eddie to see you as more than just a friend. at first, you’re hesitant and you honestly think that steve’s suggestion sounds a little insane. but, then you decide that perhaps it could actually, somehow, maybe work? you and steve haven’t even known each other for a full twenty-four hours before you two are shaking hands and agreeing to fake date for a month, and hoping that you both get what you want out of this abruptly thrown together arrangement.

warnings: modern au, college au, fake dating trope, Big Big slow burn, bestfriend!eddie, slight fuckboy!steve vibes, unrequited feelings, pining, angst, specific warnings will be tagged per chapter

author's note: ah i'm very very excited for this series! i had this idea since like december and have been up and down and back and forth with outlining and writing it for the past few months (its been a bit of a roller coaster to say the least lmao). but here it finally is woooo !! i'm gonna actually do a taglist for this one so let me know if you wanna be added<333

wc: 83.2k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

prologue — can't go back

chapter one — from the start

chapter two — how to fall in love

chapter three — easier said

chapter four — playing pretend

chapter five — somehow, it works

chapter six — keep it simple

chapter seven — in the dark

chapter eight — what this could mean

chapter nine — if there’s a next time

chapter ten — alone with you

chapter eleven — wishful thinking

chapter twelve — it’s all for you

chapter thirteen — i don’t ever wanna leave

chapter fourteen — maybe it’s you

chapter fifteen — let it all out

chapter sixteen — fragments of time

chapter seventeen — maybe we got it right

chapter eighteen — for real this time

chapter nineteen — close to you *

epilogue — nothing else feels like this *

[arc-misadventures]

Can we get team RWBY's reaction to Jaune helping Whitley get a date and actually start to bulk up

Do You Even Lift, Bro?!

: GrrRRrrrRRR?! RAAHHHH?!!

(Thud!)

: Ha haa haaa...

: H-How did I do...?

: Congratulations, you've managed to do half of a push up.

: I'm making progress!

: Yeah...

Jaune Arc, Huntsmen, Atlasian Specialist, and stuck between a love triangle of imaginable possibilities, both good, and bad. He was stuck on what was slowly becoming an impossible task: Training the twig of a human being, Whitely Schnee to bulk up, more so for his personal imagine, than anything else. His crush would probably like it if he bulked up a bit, but, Fiona didn't strike him as the type who was into muscles.

Jaune: Granted not being able to do a pushup, to being able to do half of a push up is an improvement. All be it an insignificant one...

Jaune: Okay, get up, we'll move on to weights...

Jaune offered, Whitely a hand who took it. Jaune effortlessly lifted him up, even getting some air in the process. Jaune was starting to think he needed to see a doctor, the boy was so light, he was starting to fear he was underweight, or something else.

Jaune: Okay, there's like... no strength in your arms, so we'll work on some dumbbells. Let's start with... five pounds. Okay?

Whitely: Okay!

Jaune handed over one five pound dumbbell, and when he grabbed it what happened, Jaune had expected to happen.

Whitely: Wa-Ahh?!

(Thud!)

Jaune: ...

Jaune watched as, Whitely effortlessly, and helplessly dropped the dumbbell, because it weighed too much, and the kid couldn't hold it in the air for one second.

Jaune: Haa... Okay... We'll start with a, two pound dumbbell...

Whitely: Okay...

Jaune handed, Whitely a two pound dumbbell, and while he was struggling to hold it, he didn't drop it at least.

Jaune: This is going to be harder than I expected...

Weiss: Jaune? Jaune is that you? What are you doing hereeeeeeeee...?

Jaune turned to see, Weiss staring at him with a faint blush across her face. Jaune was dressed in shorts, and a tight tee-shirt showing off his definitive muscles he gained from his life as a huntsmen.

Yang: Ahh, Weiss here you are what are you...?

Blake: Is something going on... Oh..

Ruby: Damn...

Jaune: Girls, can I help you?

Weiss: Ahh... y-yeah... What are you doing here... in the families home gym... and, since when did we have one?

Jaune: Oh, I'm just helping, Whit start his exercise routine.

Blake: Whit?

Jaune moved to the side to see, Whitely Schnee lifting a dumbbell. At least trying to that is.

Weiss: Whitely?!

Whitely: Hmm...? Oh, hi, Weiss!

Weiss: W-What are you doing here?

Whitely: Oh... I'm bulking up!

Weiss: Why?

Whitely: Well... Okay... Can you guys guess my age?

Ruby: Uhh... thirteen?

Blake: I'd say thirteen.

Yang: I agree, I'd guess your thirteen years old.

Whitely: Oh gods...

Weiss: What?! He's seventeen?!

Ruby: What?!

Yang: Seventeen...? This baby faced twig...?!

Blake: Bullshit.

Jaune: Yeah... I thought he was fourteen too. I recommended he change his diet, and bulk up so people don't think he's a kid. That, and he needs to put on some weight, this kid is as light a feather... See?

Whitely: Wha...? No, not again!

Jaune once again effortlessly picked up, Whitely by the scruff of his shirt, and held him in the air.

RWBY: ...

Yang: Ouch...

Weiss: How much do you weigh?!

Jaune: Hmmm...?

Weiss: Whoa...? Hey?!

Jaune grabbed, Weiss by her shirt, and held her in the air like he did with, Whitely. Jaune shook the pair up, and down for a moment.

Jaune: A little less then what, Weiss does.

Yang: Okay...

Blake: He didn't even have to try...?

Weiss: Put me down you brute?!

Jaune: Whoops. Sorry.

Jaune then let the to go, with, Weiss landing gracefully on her feet, while, Whitely fell flat on his ass.

Whitely: Ow!

Jaune: Oh, sorry, Whit.

Whitely: It's okay. I should have been prepared for the drop.

Blake: Why are you calling him, Whit?

Jaune: It's just a nickname I gave him. And, also a cover for when he goes down to, Mantle again.

Weiss: You've been to, Mantle?!

Whitely: Hasn't everyone?

Weiss: It's a dangerous place with lots of people that would harm you!

Whitely: I know that. Do you think I go dressed as in my suit when I go down there, no, I looked like some skater kid when I'm down there. No one recognizes me. You didn't recognize me when I 'bumped' into you.

Weiss: You bumped into me when we're were in, Mantle?

Ruby: Were you the guy that almost made, Weiss trip?

Whitely: Yep! That was me~!

Weiss: You...?! I almost fell into a pool of dirty water, because of you?!

Whitely: Really? I hadn't notice that.

Weiss: Grr! Why you little twerp?!

Jaune: You nearly did that? Maybe you should bulk up too, Weiss.

Weiss: Excuse me?!

Jaune: Now then, is there something we can help you with? Otherwise, Whitely needs to continue his exercises. Get back to it, Whit!

Whitely: Okay.

Blake: No, we were just here because we heard you voice, and we were curious about what you were doing here.

Jaune: Okay.

Whitely: How many of these should I do?

Jaune: When it starts to hurt, count to twenty.

Whitely: But, it already hurts!

Jaune: Then start counting!

Whitely: Grrr...

Ruby: Well, we're going to some shoppes in, Atlas... do you... do you want to come with us...?

Jaune: No thank you, I don't need anything.

Ruby: Oh... o-okay...

Yang, Blake, and Weiss shared a look before making a silent agreement that they needed to end this, and leave before anything happened.

Blake: We better get going...

Weiss: Yeah, don't want to miss the next airship.

Yang: Well, good luck, Whitely!

Whitely: Thank you!

Yang: And, Jaune, keep on looking fine, and hoooooowwWWW?!

: He's looking like what, Yang?

Weiss: W-Winter?

The members of team, RWBY turned to see, Winter Schnee. Smiling a warmthless smile as she was crushing, Yang shoulder.

Yang: H-He's looking...?! Looking...?! Owowowowowo! Please let me go!

Winter: Looking like what, Yang~?

Yang: H-He's looking like a strong, and dependable senior helping out his young disciple?!

Winter: That's right~!

Winter smiled as she walked past, Yang letting go of her shoulder in the process.

Yang: Ahhh?! Ha haaa...?!

Blake: Are you okay?

Yang: Woman's got a grip like a mechanical vice?!

Winter: Now then, why don't you run along girls. I will help, Jaune here with, Whitely's training.

Ruby: A-Are you sure you don't want our help...?!

Winter then turned bending down as she placed her hands on, Ruby's shoulder. Introducing her to her mechanical vice like grip as she stared daggers at, Ruby.

Winter: Listen here you little pipsqueak! I understand you want to make amends with, Jaune. But, my shows about to begin, and I don't want some little brat interrupting me, and my himbo hunk of a white knight! So kindly turn around, and get the fuck out of here! Okay~?

Ruby: O-O-O-Okay?!

Winter: Wonderful~!

With that, Team RWBY made a swift escape, unless they deal with the wrath of a woman in love.

Winter: Ahh~! Say, Jaune?

Jaune: Yeah?

Winter: I can help set up a proper training regium for, Whitely. Why don't you get some exercise yourself; Might I recommend the barbell?

Jaune: Sure, that wouldn't hurt.

Jaune walked over to the barbell, put it on his shoulders, and started doing some lifts. White, Jaune was doing this, Winter stared on, biting her lips as she watched his muscles bulge as he exerted them.

Winter: Mmmm~! Mama likey~!

Whitely: Sister, can you not do that in front of me?

Winter: Let me salivate over my man, or I'll tell, Weiss about your date with, Fiona.

Whitely: Very good, have a nice day, Winter.

Winter: Mmmm~! Eat your heart out, Robyn~! He's all mine for today~!

~~~

Fiona: What's wrong with blue balloons?

Robyn: My colours are red, and green, also some browns, but red, and green balloons are what's needed for my victory celebration, not...?!

Fiona: ...

Fiona: R-Robyn? Is something wrong?

Robyn: I can feel it!

Fiona: Feel what...?

Robyn: That bitch is trying to steal my man!

Fiona: ...

Fiona: Okay.

[joshslater]

Resizing

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Care to make it more interesting?" the guy said. We were both about the same age, size, and build. Me, a ginger electronics engineer student dedicated to exercise for years, and recently getting serious with bodybuilding, and he, a Latino who obviously didn't skip gym or his meal plan too often. I guess that was why he'd asked me to spot for him at the barbell. He returned the favor and I felt the need to use the same weight as him and do his reps plus one. That led into testosterone fueled adventure hunt through the gym where we one-upped each other on various equipment and exercises. No one else was in there at this hour. Very mature behavior conducive to optimal results, not. We'd likely regret this the rest of the week.

"Interesting how?" We were standing under the pull-up bars.

"Most pull-ups win muscle and size."

"Isn't that always the prize?" I asked.

"I suppose it is. Chin must come above the bar and then the head fully below it for it to count. Are you in?" He held out his hand. I shook it.

"I'm game," and took a small jump up to the bar and started without any hesitation. I could feel fatigue from what we had done previously, but I tuned it out best as I could. He was counting. I came past eight pretty smoothly, but then I started to struggle. I would have hoped to at least would be past twelve by that point. By thirteen I had to really push it to get number fourteen above the bar, but then I had to give up. I felt a bit disappointed, as I normally can go past fifteen, but he should be just as tired as I.

"Strong going," he congratulated and slapped my shoulder. Then he leaped to the bar, also trying to show off, and began. While it didn't look easy for him, I couldn't see him struggling too bad either, rhythmically going up and down, perhaps slowly getting closer to the agreed limit above the bar. "Ten. Eleven. Twelve." His pace didn't falter. "Thirteen. Fourteen." He made a little smirk. "Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen." That last one wasn't perhaps a legal pull-up, but I had already lost. Perhaps he felt it too, so he dropped down to the floor.

"Fuck, I'm tired," he said, no need to pretend anymore. "Well, at least I won. I shall claim my prize," and he grabbed my hand again. Suddenly I was in agony. It felt like the dull day-after-soreness after a particularly grueling gym session, but there was more to it. It felt like I couldn't move anymore, at least not much. I wasn't frozen in place, but my body refused to detach from him, refused from stepping away. I was hot. I could feel droplets of sweat running down my body, and my eyes were watering up, making the entire room hard to see. But I could see that everything was somehow shifting.

Once he let go I felt unsteady, my body still in flames and sore as hell. His face however wasn't in front of me anymore. Instead I stared right into his chest. I looked down at my body. Years worth of work was gone. It was still an athletic body, but all definition in arms and legs were gone. Pecs and shoulders like any track and field student. "What the hell did you do!" I shouted.

"Muscle and size," he said calmly and flexed his now much larger arm. He looked down at me. "Don't worry. Girls like short boys with abs. Boys too I guess."

"Fuck you! Turn me back!"

"Or what? You're going to tell someone a guy you don't know stole your height at the gym?"

He had a point there. If I hadn't just seen it happen it would be completely unbelievable to me too.

"Just be the bigger man," he said and walked towards the showers.

[rueclfer]

evergreen

𖤓 part viii. | series m.list | prev | part ix.

you weren't sure how things got to this point.

with one hand, you were clutching onto a fitstful of touya’s t-shirt and in the other you had your fingers wrapped around his outer forearm as it slung over your shoulder.

touya's body weight threatened to drag you down with him as you two stumbled through the woods. with his phone flashlight haphazardly swinging in all directions in his loose grasp, you could only hope you were heading towards the right direction.

"move your fucking feet, touya," you groan, dragging him forward.

"the fuck do you think i'm doing?" he slurs, accidentally kicking the back of your foot for the third time.

you felt hot against the side of his body at all points of contact. your palm was burning against his waist as were your fingertips wrapped around his wrist. 

it's fine. it's fine. it’s fine

how did a couple shots turn into another quarter of that handle of vodka? how were you somehow managing fine?

the first time you gotten drunk at camp was during your last summer. hawks and touya made it a tradition to sneak in a bottle or two since you were fourteen, but it wasn't until you were seventeen when tomura was old enough to be invited to partake and the weight of peer pressure had finally cracked you.

that night, you were met with your creator in the woods behind hawks' cabin at an ungodly hour with a blanket hung over your shoulder and touya holding back a fistfull of your hair.

"everyone's first time is like this, don't be embarrassed." he assures, biting back laughter.

"did i ruin it?" you drunkenly sob over a pool of your own vomit.

“no, you were perfect.”

at least this wasn’t that. 

you could’ve at least enjoyed this experience and been a bit tipsy, but the responsibility of dragging touya of all people back to your beds was harrowing enough to sober you up.

"my phone died." he groans.

"yeah, i can tell," you huff, staring at the ground in darkness.

"i'm scared."

"of the dark? you're a twenty three year old grown man, babe," you scoff "i'm sure the woods are more scared of you than you are of it."

"in the dark. in the woods. alone. with you." he hiccups.

"i don't bite."

"wish you did."

you hear the smirk in his voice- the familiar teasing tone that never failed to twist your stomach and make your throat go dry. you don't respond.

the buzzing of your cabin's porch light called out to you like an applause at the finish line and you swore you've never been more excited to be reunited with a rock hard twin sized mattress.

“you’re gonna have to walk up a couple steps, okay?” 

you pull him closer to you. how cruel would it be to leave him on the front steps of the porch if he doesn’t cooperate? of course you’d bring him a blanket and pillow. it’d be nice to be woken up by the rising sun wouldn’t it?

“heard.” he mumbles, resting his cheek against the side of your head.

you curse to yourself once your cold hand meets the warmth of skin where his t-shirt had ridden up his waist.

you almost reflexively rip your hand away until your fingers twitch against the sudden divide between soft flesh and unfamiliar rough thick grooves running up his torso.

your eyes dart back and forth between the concentration sewn in his furrowed brows, and the front door just steps away. your fingers freeze in place. touya’s focus remains down at his feet. he doesn’t notice.

you let your fingers press into his skin as you help him keep balance up the steps. your index and middle finger push against thick rubbery skin as your ring and pinky finger sink into soft flesh. you don’t know what to make of it.

once you two practically fall into the front door, you think about giving him a glass of water, and laying him on his back. you could let your hands glide up his torso, bringing the ratty band tee up over his head and onto the ground, and you could look at him. really look at him.

that white hair he used to complain about and slather in black hairdye had grown past his ears. did you stop dyeing you hair because you lost the only person you’d let touch it?

he added a few new piercings to his collection. did you do these yourselves again?

his cerulean eyes still has that gleam to them. i still recognize you.

this is the first time you’ve let yourself think about him all day. every time he crossed your mind since your meeting this morning, you’ve been quick to chased it off with a distraction. maybe you were drunk, because for the first time in years, you’re wondering besides the obvious, what’s changed?

a lot could happen in five years. new people. freak accidents. it’s all inevitable.

maybe it's nothing.

a/n: somehow leaning towards canon adjacent dynamics and snippets eeeeeeep and i also feel like we r finally moving the story along kinda sorta so yaay

tags:

@iluv-ace @bitchyfestivalbouquet @redr0sewrites @babylambdietcoke @bnhabadass @hanmastattoos @1ndee @starsryi @nesrynsblog @twoplayergaymers @suksatoru @ita606 @pookiebear16 @fictionalcharactersownmyheart @in-the-marina-trench @haruhi269 @itgetzweird08 @ilophilia @chimimon @emluvs-sugu @punishblue @whorror-complex @akumakitsune21 @maddie-rose-1 @ixeyi @commonmisery @ggriwm @exselily @kryscent @starrmage @vannyinthestars @burnishingbagels @soobhns @kaybug88 @lantsovheiress @0skullyard0 @albakugo @sleepyk0dyz @blu3-l0v3r @bakugouswh0r3 @kaldurahms-lover @thoughtswithbbg

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + masterlist

summary:

The Bloodline is a notorious crime family known all across the underground world. A family that’s been at the top of the food chain for generations. Currently led by the ruthless, stoic Roman Reigns, their success has never been better. But as Roman moves up the age ladder, his chief advisors are pushing him to set aside the one night stands in favor of settling down to ensure the continuation of the bloodline.

Enter: Solana Miller. Scarred both literally and figuratively from a lifetime of trauma, she finds herself embedded in a twisted game of politics when she’s forced into an arranged marriage with the tribal chief himself. A union built upon lies, Solana doesn’t expect her days to last long given Roman’s notorious temper.

Roman initially opposes the union, finding Solana to be entirely too fragile for his preference but eventually agrees under the guise that she will be unseen and unheard outside of her duties in giving him an heir.

What neither of these two realize is maybe there’s more to each other than meets the eye and that maybe the healing they’ve both been unconsciously looking for can be found in one another….. 

details:

cw/tw: extreme violence, graphic language, murder, drugs, torture, abuse (of children and adults), childhood sexual assault, mental health struggles, mafia, crime, fluff, smut, and suggestive content

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

pairing: roman reigns x poc!oc

feat characters: jimmy uso, jey uso, solo sikoa, naomi, nia jax, paul heyman, rikishi, the rock, sasha banks, cody rhodes, brandi rhodes, seth rollins, becky lynch, bianca belair, jade cargill, sami zayn, kevin owens, brock lesnar and more. (see cast here)

chapters:

act one

chapter one + chapter two + chapter three + chapter four + chapter five + chapter six + chapter seven + chapter eight + chapter nine + chapter ten + chapter eleven + chapter twelve + chapter thirteen + chapter fourteen

act two

chapter fifteen + chapter sixteen + chapter seventeen + chapter eighteen + chapter nineteen + chapter twenty + chapter twenty-one + chapter twenty two + chapter twenty three + chapter twenty four + chapter twenty five

act three

chapter twenty six + chapter twenty seven + chapter twenty eight + chapter twenty nine + chapter thirty + chapter thirty one + chapter thirty two + chapter thirty three + chapter thirty four + chapter thirty five (coming soon)

shorts:

dulce interrupting roman and solana during 'spicy' time

roman calling sam 'solana' while being intimate

jey's bad ass kids

au roman and solana first meeting

roman and fetu discussion

solana visits roman in his office

roman and solana halloween costume short

roman and solana in the gym

star-crossed lovers au short

roman and solana cooking short

roman and solana talk about dom short

solana asks roman to go out to dinner short

sick days

sleepless nights

before the fall

au short // made for me

leya

au roman being at the first ob-gyn appt

extras

⪨ click here to read asks regarding the story ⪩

⪨ click here to see current list of short suggestions ⪩

story inspired spotify playlist

roman's lock screens: part 1

roman's lock screens: part 2

roman's nsfw lock screens: part 3

roman and solana's house

roso visuals

roso texts

roso texts 2

roso texts 3

solana's instagram

solana's posts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

[seeingivy]

french toast

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

an: enabled by @babiemay thank her for giving me the BIGGEST best friends older brother sukuna brain rot i've ever had in my life. (ooc sukuna again btw)

**part of my best friends (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

--

based on the seventeen years that sukuna has known you, he figures that you’ve already worked up some type of overthinking storm in your head when you arrive at his apartment two days later. and he knows for a fact that he’s right, because you’re at his doorstep with a pinched look on your face, clutching your purse like you’re about to get robbed. 

“hi pretty girl. did someone make an attempt on your life today?” 

you can feel your cheeks burning at the term of endearment, so phased you can barely coherently respond - or understand - what it is he said. 

“no?” you respond, nearly sweating under his eye contact as he smiles. 

“then why are you looking at me like you think i’m going to eat you?” he asks, annoyed as he gestures for you to walk into the kitchen. 

you feel your head run in a spiral, at the implication of his words, as he places his hands flat on your shoulders, and guides you to sit at the stool on his little kitchen island. the entire ordeal - the breakfast, the fact that he’s peeling off your coat and pressing a kiss to your temple, and the lingering touches - they make your skin burn, almost itch with nervousness. 

he stands on the other side of the counter, leaning forward on his forearms, as he smiles at you. and you try your best to figure out what exactly it is that’s beaming in his eyes as he leans forward. 

“pick your poison.” 

you feel yourself pale. 

“huh?” 

he frowns, as he leans back. 

“for breakfast? what did you want to eat?” he clarifies. 

you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“anything’s okay. don’t trouble yourself. i-i can even help.” 

you walk over to his side, pulling up your sleeves and giving him a peachy smile, as he takes the opportunity to step towards you. your back hits the counter and sukuna makes it a point - resting both of his arms at your sides - as he traps you within his hold. 

“talk.” he states, almost sternly. 

“hm?” 

sukuna leans closer, leaning his forehead against yours, as he takes a deep breath. it reminds you vividly, of two nights ago, when he pulled you straight onto his lap. and murmured into your skin that you were his pretty girl. and that he was going to prove it to you. 

“talk.” he states, the tone in his voice irritated. 

you look up at him, at his eyes razor focused in on yours, and spot no inclination of irritation on his face. despite the fact that you were almost positive that it was dripping from his tone. though, you always found him particularly hard to read.  

“now.” he murmurs. 

you sigh. 

“what are you trying to do right now?” you ask. 

he rolls his eyes. there’s the irritation you were hearing. 

“make you breakfast.” he deadpans. 

“is that all?” 

“what are you getting at?” he asks. 

sukuna often finds that talking to you is like digging a hole. that it takes patience. because he’s not going to find what he’s looking for forthright. but he knows for a fact that there’s something down there. 

it’s aggravating. but he persists.  

“promise you won’t make fun?” you ask. 

“i will do no such thing.” 

“sukuna.” you whine, crossing your hands against your chest. 

sukuna finds this part of you endearing. because it reminds him of all the different ways he’s seen you. when you were four and barging into his house to play wii with his little brother, explaining barbie movies at the dinner table, and tagging along on his family vacation when he was fourteen. 

and how after all this time, you still have the same tendencies. you bounce your right leg when you’re nervous, tuck your hair behind your ears when you’re finished rambling, and curl your hands into little fists and cross your arms - entirely unable to meet his eyes - when you’re embarrassed. 

sukuna clears his throat, as you look up at him. and you know the expression all too well. that he’ll wait all day if he has to. 

“no making fun. i’m serious, sukuna.” 

“it’s almost like you know you’re going to say something stupid.” 

“don’t call my feelings stupid.” you murmur. 

“well, i’ll keep calling them stupid until you tell me what they are. i’ll be honest if you let me.” 

this is something you can appreciate about sukuna. that he won’t beat around the bush. or say things just to coddle. it’s the same as the other night, where you told him about what happened at the bar, when he didn’t rush to your defense like almost everyone else does. and when it comes to this, you figure that he’ll be straightforward. 

“are you trying to have sex with me right now?” you ask. 

you look at sukuna, specifically at the way his eyes widen, before he breaks out into a laugh. and not just any laugh, because he’s nearly keeling over with how amusing he finds it. howling even. and it makes even more blood rush to your cheeks, humiliated for even bringing it up. 

sukuna grins, lifting his hands up from the sides of the counter and wrapping them around your neck.you can feel your breath hitch in your throat, as you instinctively shut your eyes. he’s going to be straightforward. 

“your feelings are stupid.” he whispers, right into your skin. 

you pull back, staring at him dumbfounded, as he places one of his hands on your waist. and he’s staring back at you, the expression in his face slightly amused. 

“that’s not nice.” 

“i’m not a nice person.” 

it’s frustrating. the tone that he uses with you. it teeters between placating and teasing you and you find it hard to decide which one exactly it is. and it seeps right under your skin, lets your irritation come to a head faster than it usually would.

“okay, well. sue me! you had no problems doing god knows what in my room the other day. and-and then you were making jokes about how you were going to eat me. the second that i got here. and-and you know how you are-” 

“and what’s that?” 

you pause.

“what?” 

“you said you know how you are. well, i don’t. enlighten me please.” he clarifies. 

sukuna’s pleased with himself. because he’s figured out exactly what it is, that’s brewing in that head of yours. and naturally, he has every intention to make you mince your words. 

“you-” 

you’re not sure how to say this. if there’s a polite way to call him what he is. 

“i’m what? a manwhore?” he asks. 

“no! you-” 

“you think i’m a horny freak, right? that i want to lift you up, take your skirt off, and have you right here on my kitchen counter?” 

you feel your eyes go wide, as you swallow hard, and feel the nervousness take residence in your stomach. sukuna senses it fast enough and makes his efforts to diffuse it. 

“do you think i would only invite you here because i want you to please me? do you think that’s the only way i can enjoy your company?” 

you can feel yourself getting too overstimulated, your head nearly steaming - at the implication, at the way he’s looking at you, and the fact that his lips are a few feet away from yours - and his smug grin crawling underneath your skin and making you twitch. 

you cover your face with your hands, feeling the warmth on your palms, as you feel his hands curl around your wrists, prying them off of your face. and when you look up at him, at the soft smile on his face, as you can’t help but frown at him. 

“no…” 

sukuna smiles. 

“are you lying to me?” 

you deflate. 

“maybe a little.” 

sukuna secures his hands around your waist, before fully lifting you up and placing you on the counter. and he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek before he wordlessly starts rummaging through different cabinets in his kitchen and the fridge, fully intent on making you the breakfast you were promised. 

you can’t help but watch him, as he muses around his kitchen, slicing vegetables on the cutting board and fruits on the side. at how he entirely discards the conversation you just had like it was nothing. 

from two feet away, sukuna is very, very appreciative of you. because you’re not very proud. and despite your first attempts, you’re honest too. because he knows for a fact that your hesitation to state your thoughts is because you don’t want to write sukuna off as something so…lewd. even if you think it’s true. and that of course, any hesitation on your part comes from something deeper than him. 

the deep seated distaste you seem to have for yourself. though sukuna’s entirely unsure why it’s there in the first place. he slices a strawberry in half, letting the eggs cook at his side, before he makes a residence standing in between your legs. 

he hands you one of the halves of the strawberry, before popping the other in his mouth and leaning into your space. 

“i don’t think you’re a manwhore.” you clarify. 

“okay. i don’t think you’re one either.” he responds. 

you smile.

“but you do think that’s the only reason you’re here?” he pokes. 

“no! no, i don’t think that. i just-” 

you sigh, placing your hands flat on the fabric of his hoodie, as you crumple it into your fists. 

“sorry. i’m not very good at this type of thing. and-and you’re like…you know. reputation. and you obviously have needs! and megumi thinks you’re a womanizer.” 

sukuna snickers, as you release his hoodie, and you deflate slightly. mainly at the fact that he’s not offended. and letting you ramble - and say ten different things you shouldn’t - openly. 

sukuna doesn’t shy away from what exactly it is that you think of him. or what that godawful sea urchin megumi thinks either. because it’s naturally, quite simple. and somewhat true. because he finds it hard to stay in one place for a long time. and as you very keenly put it, he had needs. 

though, that rule, as sukuna was painstakingly reminded of, didn’t apply to you. because again, you transcended any normal guideline that sukuna had. which is why he was keen on making you breakfast two days later, on his day off. and make your favorite, which he specifically remembers from the camping trip. 

“i’m not sure what thing you’re referencing. and make no mistake. i don’t talk in tongues like you do. if i invite you over for breakfast, it’s because i want to eat breakfast with you.” he responds. 

“you were the one who said you were going to eat me.” you defend. 

“you were looking at me like you were scared of me. like how prey looks at a predator before it gets eaten?” 

“oh.” 

sukuna pushes off the counter as he starts plating the food onto and feels his ego inflate when you jump off the counter and cling to his arm when you realize what exactly it is that he made. 

“sukuna. i love french toast!” 

“yes. i’m well aware.” 

"how'd you know?" you ask.

sukuna looks over at you, the look in his eyes so devious, that you know you've certainly walked into something by stating it.

"you told us. on the camping trip. you've always been my pretty girl. even when you were fourteen."

you barely have time to even stomach what it is that he said as he lifts both plates as he makes a gesture for you to follow, seating the two of you back on his kitchen island. and when you settle in, sukuna gets to pick at your mind, with the questions that have been stuck in his head for the past two days. 

“before i divulge my manwhore adventures for you, you have to indulge me first. how many guys have you dated? or talked to?” sukuna asks. 

you hate sukuna’s choice of words sometimes. indulge. it’s almost like he knows he’s saying words that make you nervous. that make the sweat accumulate on the palms of your hands. 

“where’d you learn how to make french toast like this?” you ask, deflecting. 

“i asked first.” 

you swirl the eggs around on the plate - moving them from the left, to the right, and back to the left - before you answer. 

“i had a crush on this guy named dean from sixth grade to eighth grade. all of the boys in school got dared to slow dance with different girls and he picked me. it was an awkward four minutes of halo by beyonce but i loved him after that. he was funny. and cute.” 

“did you date?” he asks. 

“oh, of course not. he started liking this girl named kimi in eighth grade.” 

sukuna’s not exactly sure if this is the question he asked. but you keep going. and it’s intriguing to him nonetheless. 

“in my sophomore year of highschool, i had a crush on this guy named parker. he was kind of nerdy, like the stupid type? my english teacher would always put us in group projects together, and when i asked him why, he said it was because he wanted us to get married.” 

“that’s an appropriate thing to say to a fifteen year old.” sukuna bites. 

“no! my teacher had this dream to go to two of his students weddings, that met in his class.” 

“and what killed that extremely inapprorpiate dream, dead in its tracks?” 

“my best friend. we all somehow ended up in the same friends group our junior year. and they kind of started flirting. dated all the way till our freshman year of college.” you respond. 

sukuna curbs the question that comes to the forefront of his mind. because it occurs to him that his plausible answer to it, one that he despises, is exactly what’s going to be the answer. that if they liked each other, you were going to let them. despite the fact that you liked him first. 

“any more for me?” sukuna asks. 

“my first boyfriend was in my senior year of highschool.” 

sukuna feigns shock, as you fight the urge to laugh. 

“have we finally arrived to a real boyfriend?” 

you laugh, as you settle your hand into his underneath the table. there’s something so inviting about him, the way he’s hanging off the ends of your words and listening intently, that makes you continue. 

“we don’t speak his name.” you state. 

“oh?” 

“he’s not a good guy. we dated until….my freshman year of college. december. and we officially stopped talking the summer of my sophomore year.” you state. 

sukuna bites the urge to ask every question in his mind. on who this guy is, why you continued to talk to him almost an entire year after, and most importantly, why you haven’t talked to anyone else since. 

except for him anyways. for the first time, sukuna finds himself being the exception. in a way that’s favorable to him. 

“that’s all of them! your turn.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“that’s all?” 

“mhm! it’s kind of boring, i’m assuming. in comparison to you.” 

sukuna concludes one thing. that all three of these men, especially the last, were not deserving of you. in the slightest. and that each one had wrecked a sizeable amount of havoc. he curses himself for not paying attention when he was still there.

“oh definitely. you’d need to stay here all day if you wanted to here that.” 

you smile brightly. 

“that can be arranged.” you respond. 

sukuna leans forward, lips a few feet away from yours, before he speaks again. 

“you like to play hard to get, don’t you?” sukuna asks. 

“what? what do you mean?” 

sukuna places his hands on the rung of your chair, before pulling it flesh with his own. and he tests the waters, by placing his hand on your bare knee, right near the pleats of your black skirt. and he feels you instinctively press your legs together, but make no moves to push him off. 

“i didn’t make the list?” 

you swallow hard, entirely embarrassed. though, your first real crush you supposed is naturally the one that you’ve denied, vehemently, since you were four years old and yuuji asked you in passing. 

because when your eyes lingered on him for too long, after he fixed the wii controls and dutifully handed you both your controllers back - of his wii, that he was letting you play on - yuuji halfmindedly asked the question. 

why are you looking at him like that? do you like him or something? 

it was a joke, of course. because yuuji just asked so he could start the match of wii tennis while you weren’t paying attention. that in the rush of it, you never got to consider the answer to it in full. though you suppose there’s no better time to answer it than now. 

“i have this best friend. his name is yuuji.” you start. 

sukuna’s alarmed. so alarmed that he pulls his hand off of your thigh, retreating it behind his back. 

surely you didn’t really like yuuji. because that would stop whatever it was that was blooming right now. because he was not his brother, despite their identical pink hair. the farthest thing from it actually. 

“i met him when i was four. and i barged into his house because he wanted me to play wii with him. you see, his big brother didn’t really like to play with him so he figured that i was the next best thing.” you state. 

“he had greasy hands. so did you. it was disgusting.” he states. 

“and yuuji didn’t know how to turn on the game. or-or remember which one it was in. so he called his very cool, much older brother, to help us. i’d never met a six year old before, and naturally if i had, i wouldn’t have thought he was so cool.” 

“shut up.” 

sukuna desperately wants you to continue. 

“seemed like the real serious type. kind of quiet. dark blue shirt, black shorts. the socks that only go to your ankles. i didn’t even know that his name was sukuna until a few days later, when he walked with us to school. he didn’t even introduce himself to me.” 

“did you want to know him that badly?” 

“and he fixed the remote, obviously. had some six year knowledge we didn’t clearly. and-and he turned to me. gave me a smile before he handed one to me and walked away.” you state, shrugging at him. 

sukuna’s satiated with your answer. mostly because, it seems you seem to remember the ordeal in as excruticating detail as he has. that you were wearing a pink dress, gold earrings, and a ribbon in your hair. that your skin was the softest he had ever felt, that you were the first girl who had brushed fingers with him when he handed you the remote, save for his mom of course 

sukuna brings his hand back into your hair, feeling the fabric of the blue ribbon in your hair today, matching with the short cardigan that you were wearing. and he wants to keep this one too. yank it out of your hair and secure it to his keys next to the pink one he refused to return. 

sukuna looks down at the fabric, at your hair sprawled over your shoulder. he can make out the length of your collarbone from underneath your tanktop and settles his lips right into divot, before pressing a lingering kiss into your skin and feeling you keel over in his arms. 

“france.” he murmurs, right into your skin. 

“what’s that?” you ask, dazed from the contact. 

“i learned to make the french toast in france.”

he kisses up the length of your neck, making no inclination to stop even as you barely stutter your words out. and for the second time, can't resist and places his hands on your waist just to pull you straight on top of him.

"makes sense. that's just-just toast for them." you mumble.

sukuna can't help but laugh. he's never going to tire of you.

--

next part linked here

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