#i have been keeping an eye on it all day i will admit

[mminghaos]

best friend seungcheol whom you have a crush on, but never told him. he doesn't know it either and y'all just bicker all the time as bsf, one day all of it changes when you finally say you found a match on some dating app. he realises it and bam! hot and heavy shit go down.

bitter crush , choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYPNOSIS: your bestfriend doesn’t know you’ve had a crush on him for years, but when you mention matching with someone on a dating app, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, kissing, teasing, mingyu as the failed date lmfao

requests are open, do send some in!!

you’ve been friends with seungcheol since high school, watching each other grow up — first jobs, first kisses, and everything in between, sticking together through the highs and lows. your friendship is built on bickering and teasing each other like it’s second nature. but now, the bickering feels different.

“i matched with someone on that app i told you about,” you say, placing your coffee down on the wooden table of the café you and seungcheol are sitting at.

you’d decided to give a dating app a shot, hoping it would help you take your mind off seungcheol. maybe meeting someone new will help you move on, or at least distract you from the constant thoughts about him. but so far, it’s just more of the same — swiping, chatting, but none of its ever seemed to match the energy you share with him. you might as well move on, since seungcheol has is own hookups and girlfriends, and none of them will ever be you. its frustrating, the way this burning crush for him is always shimmering beneath the surface, gnawing at you. this is going to be the death of you — that’s what you always tell yourself.

“so you’re telling me you’re out here swiping on strangers?” he responds, his voice laced with something you can’t quite place. “what happened to the whole ‘not needing anyone’ thing?”

“it changed.”

“really? that’s weird.” he says, his eyes never leaving you. “thought you were too busy to deal with anyone new.”

you roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “yeah, well, apparently im not as busy as i thought.”

you’ve never been the type to casually date or get involved with someone just for the sake of it. but lately, things feel different. seungcheol’s always been there — constant, reliable, and annoyingly perfect in his own way — and it’s hard to ignore how your thoughts always circle back to him, no matter how many times you try to push them away. you’ve never said it out loud, never let him in on the truth of how much he’s been occupying your mind, and the idea of dating someone else? it almost feels like a joke. you’re not really here for some random guy who doesn’t know you like he does. but the more you try to distract yourself, the more you realize how little it helps. no matter how many matches you get, no conversation ever seems to compare to the effortless back and forth you share with seungcheol. it’s like you’re chasing something that doesn’t quite exist, and each swipe only makes you feel more frustrated. but you can’t exactly admit that, not to him, not to anyone. so you keep trying, hoping maybe this time will be different, even though you know deep down it won’t be.

“so, who’s this guy?”

you shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. “kim mingyu. he’s nice. we’ve met a few times before, actually — works at that bar down the street.”

seungcheol leans back in his chair, his arms crossed as he watched you. he clears his throat. “just don’t pick some random guy who doesn’t get you, alright?”

“what, are you jealous or something?”

“no.”

the date with mingyu went well. you two got along really great — there was no shortage of conversation, and the chemistry was comfortable. you both enjoyed the meal and found common ground in ways that made the evening feel lighthearted and easy. it was nice, actually, to just relax and enjoy someone’s company without any pressure.

even if the date was good, you and mingyu both agreed that you should just be friends, neither of you feeling the sparks you were hoping for.

you walk into your apartment, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys under the mat. its quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. you head towards the living room, where seungcheol is sprawled on your couch, sorting through the groceries he offered to pick up for you earlier this week.

“you’re back early,” he says, glancing up with a smirk. “thought you were gonna be out all night with your… date.”

you roll your eyes, not really in the mood to talk about it. “it was fine,” you reply, shrugging as you drop your purse on the counter. “nothing special.”

seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “really?”

you let out a breath, trying to sound casual. “yeah, well, turns out i’m not as interested as i thought.”

he tilts his head, looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out. “what do you mean?”

you hesitate, leaning against the kitchen counter, fingers tapping against the countertop. “we got along, i guess. but we just decided to be friends.”

“huh.” seungcheol shrugs, clearly unconcerned, though there’s something in the way he watches you that makes you pause. “so you’re saying you don’t feel any connection with him at all?”

you shift, rubbing the back of your neck. “it’s just… not there. but whatever. i’m fine.”

“you sure?” seungcheol presses, his voice dropping an octave, and you can’t help but notice how close he’s sitting now. “because i’m sure someone else would love the chance to—”

“ugh, please.” you cut him off, trying to brush it off. “i don’t need some random guy to be interested.”

he smirks, clearly not buying it. “really? sounds like you do.”

you bite your lip, trying to hold onto your patience, but it’s slipping through your fingers. you know he’s teasing, and usually, you’d laugh it off, but tonight feels different. there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore, something that’s been building for years. frustration bubbles up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“cheol, i like you, okay?” you blurt out, your voice trembling slightly, surprised by how easily it all comes rushing out.

he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. there’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re about to suffocate under the weight of it. his gaze flickers to your face, then down to your hands, then back to your eyes, as if trying to figure out what’s really going on.

“wait,” he says slowly, his tone less playful and more cautious now. “you’re not drunk, are you? had drinks or something when you were out?”

you quickly shake your head, trying to steady your breath. “no, i’m not drunk. i just—” but the words feel clumsy on your tongue, and suddenly, you’re unsure of how to take them back.

“i shouldn’t have said that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “this was stupid, i’m sorry. i don’t even know why i—”

you start rambling, trying to downplay the confession that’s just slipped out. each word feels like it’s digging you deeper, and you just want to take it all back. “i mean, i don’t even know what i was thinking—this is—god, i’m so—”

but before you can finish, seungcheol pushes himself off the couch and walks towards you, stopping just a few inches away. his eyes still lock on yours. the silence stretches, and you feel your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. you want to say something, to apologize again, but all the words are caught in your chest.

“stop,” he says softly, his voice low, but there’s an intensity in it that you can’t ignore.

you open your mouth, wanting to explain, to take back the awkward confession, but the words jumble in your mind. “it’s just… i didn’t want to make it weird, and now i’ve probably ruined everything—”

seungcheol doesn’t say anything, just watches you with an unreadable look in his eyes, waiting for you to stop rambling. you go on anyway, trying to explain yourself, even though you can feel yourself getting more flustered with each passing second.

before you can continue, he steps forward, his hand gently cupping your face, cutting off your words. you freeze, eyes wide, but before you can process anything, his lips crash onto yours, effectively silencing you.

the kiss is deep and urgent, like he’s been holding back too. your brain barely registers what’s happening as your hands instinctively move to his chest, but the tension that had been building between you both for so long snaps. everything goes quiet in your mind, and for the first time tonight, all the chaos and nerves fall away, replaced by the heat of his kiss.

the kiss lingers for a moment, intense and raw, as if neither of you wants to pull away. your breath mingles with his, the world around you blurring until there’s only the feeling of him so close, so real. your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds you just a bit tighter, as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your forehead resting against his as you both try to catch your breath. his hands are still on you, one gently holding your face, the other resting on your hip, grounding you.

“you really don’t make things easy, do you?” he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse, the teasing edge back in his tone, but it’s softer now, more affectionate.

you don’t trust yourself to speak right away. all the words that had been stuck in your chest before are now lost, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him so close, his touch still lingering on your skin. instead, you look up at him, meeting his eyes, trying to make sense of everything, but before you can say anything, he smiles slightly, a genuine, soft expression.

“i didn’t realise how much i liked you until you told me about that guy,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek gently. “i was too stupid to notice.”

you dont get to reply because his hand moves down your back, pulling you closer, your chest pressed against his. the room feels warmer now, charged with something you can't ignore. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing lightly at first, unsure if you should pull away or let it happen. but he doesn't give you that chance.

his lips return to yours, but this time, there's more urgency in it, his kiss deepening as his tongue brushes against yours. you let out a soft sigh, the tension that's been building between you two for what feels like forever finally snapping. he groans, his hand moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss further. the heat between you both grows, and you can feel every inch of him pressing against you, making your pulse quicken.

seungcheol's voice is low, almost a whisper as he takes a step back, hands resting on your waist, grounding you both. "do you want to keep going?" he asks.

you nod, your heart racing, but your mind is clear. “yes.”

he doesn't say anything more, just nods and gently takes your hand, leading you through the apartment. when you get to your room, he lays you down on the bed gently, his hands never leaving you.

seungcheol hovers over you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you’re unsure. you can feel his body close to yours, the warmth radiating off him. “are you sure?”

“yes, cheol.” you let out a light laugh, pulling him closer. “im sure.”

his lips trail down your jaw, each kiss softer than the last before he moves to your neck, his teeth grazing slightly over the skin. you let out a soft sigh once he pulls back after reaching where your shirt starts. before he can say anything, you’re reaching for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head.

seungcheol takes a moment, his gaze lingering on you before meeting your eyes again.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says, unclasping your bra and slipping it off. “god.”

his hands find their way to your pants as he trails kisses down your chest, each one growing more desperate as his lips move lower. the warmth of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, and you can feel your heart race with every gentle press of his lips.

eventually, he pulls your pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor behind him. “please.” you breathe out

“hmm?” he responds, his fingers slipping just under the band of your panties. “what do you want, baby?”

“need you inside me, please.”

he glances down at you, lips twitching up into a smirk. “patience.”

“no, no, no— cheol, please—” you whimper out.

“don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.” he cuts you off, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone.

when he finally stops teasing you and pulls your panties down, tossing them god knows where, you’re already a mess underneath him. every nerve in your body is on edge, anticipation building as he slides two fingers through your folds. “fuck, you’re soaking wet for me, baby.” a low groan escapes his lips, his restraint wavering as he fights to hold himself back.

he slowly pushes one finger into your pussy, giving you a moment to relax before he adds another and starts to curl them into all the right places.

“cheol!” your head falls back against the pillow, hand going to grab his wrist for some sort of stability.

“yeah, you like that?”

you’re already so close — just from the way his fingers move inside you, hitting every spot that sends sparks shooting througu your body.

you nod over and over again, hips rising to match the rhythm of his movements. “don’t stop— fuck— please, im so close.” 

your breath hitches, and you clutch at his arm, desperate for grounding as the sensations overwhelm you. every stroke of his fingers feels like its pulling you closer to the brink, and the tension in your body winds tighter with each passing second. “please—” the word slips out as a whisper, barely audible. your legs start to shake, the pleasure coursing through you almost too much to bear.

before you can even warn seungcheol, you’re coming undone all over his fingers, hips bucking up at the same time.

“god, thats so hot.” he mutters, but you’re too out of it to know if its to you or himself.

"you alright?" seungcheol asks softly, his hand resting on your hip as he looks down at you with concern. his touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as if he's checking for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your breath still ragged, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "yeah, i'm good. just... didn't expect that." your voice is breathy, the lingering effects of the moment still making your body tingle.

seungcheol smirks, clearly pleased with the reaction. "you sure you're not too overwhelmed?" he teases, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

you laugh softly, the sound shaky but genuine. "im fine" you reply, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. "was that your way of saying you like me too?"

“it was.” he smirks, eyes locking onto yours. “think you can go for one more round?”

he really is going to be the death of you.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

i love your work sm!! could i request something with nerd!rafe? like reader never normally wears her glasses, so she decides to put them on while she reads and gets insecure and rafe comforts her?

beautiful with them.

NERD!RAFE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: insecurities w/ glasses, angst to comfort

A/N: thank you sm! LOVE THIS. agh so sweet.

You flipped through the pages with anticipation, your eyes darting over the sentences. The world around you faded into the background, the rustle of the pages the only sound you heard. It wasn’t until you caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of your eye that you realized Rafe had entered the room, leaning against the doorway.

As your gaze caught him entering the room, your eyes widened in surprise. You fumbled to remove the glasses that sat on your face, the frames slipping through your fingers as you set them aside. The suddenness of your actions caught him off guard, a look of confusion flickering across his face, but he dismissed it as he stepped toward you. A warm smile graced his lips as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours.

“Hi, baby.” He murmured against your lips.

“Hi.” You breathed out. “You’re home early.” You noted, him moving away, putting the briefcase on the bed as he shoved off his suit jacket.

“Meeting finished early, and I was free the rest of the day.” He replied, you nodding, glancing down at your book and your glasses. “What have you been doin’ all day?” He asked you.

“Reading, mostly.” You replied, him letting out a chuckle.

“I thought so.”

Even though he’s seen you read so many times, you always wore your contacts. He’s never really seen you with your glasses. And if he has, it’s been only a few times.

You glanced back down at the glasses, and then back at him. He was taking off his clothes, changing into sweatpants and a baggy shirt.

He sat on the bed, phone in hand. He got comfortable, settling underneath the covers as he began his scrolling.

You turned back in your seat, putting your glasses back on and making sure you were facing away from him as you began to read again.

About thirty minutes passed when he stood up, making his way to the door. You moved your hand, resting your head on your palms as an attempt to hide the frames on your face.

He came back in with two cups of water in his hand, coming back over to your desk with them. He leaned against the desk, offering one of the cups to you.

You took off your glasses, looking back at him for a moment. You gave him a small smile, and he gave you one back.

“You know,” he rasped out. “I like you with your glasses on.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, smile faltering.

He picked them up in his hands, going to put them over your face when you gently grabbed his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it.

You plucked them from his hands, him quirking an eyebrow.

“Thank you.” You replied quietly, setting them back onto the desk.

“Why don’t you wear them?” He asked you, and you knew he was gonna keep pressing until he found out, because that’s just how he is.

You hesitated before answering, “I just… I don’t like how they look on me.” You admitted softly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s why I wear the contacts.”

There was a flicker of sadness on his face, watching you with a visible frown. He knows how you felt, because he’s thought the same thing about his own when he was younger.

“Well, I think they look good on you. You wear them better than me.” He spoke honestly, you letting out a chuckle, thinking he was joking.

“Stop.” You told him, but he didn’t, instead, he reached for your face.

He gently grabbed your jaw, making you look up at him. With his other hand, he grabbed your glasses.

He let go of your jaw, and put both hands on the glasses, before moving your hair, putting the lens over your eyes, and tucking the tips of the glasses behind your ears.

“I’m serious. Maybe you can’t see it, but you really do look beautiful with them on. You were beautiful without them, and you’re beautiful with them.” He told you, holding your face in his hands.

“You really think so?” You asked him quietly, to which he nodded, removing his hands from your face.

“I think, that you should wear them more, if anything.”

He watched the corners of your lips quirk up, small smile making its way onto your face. He leaned down again, and cupped your face once more, pressing his lips softly against yours, both of your glasses clashing as he did so, causing him to look at you, both of you beginning to laugh together.

You settled for putting your foreheads together, soft giggles still escaping your mouth as he smiled at you.

“Thank you.” You told him quietly.

“Course.” He responded in the same quiet volume, “If I didn’t say something, what kind of fiancée would I be, hm?” He hummed out.

Taglist:

@10ava01 @mileyraes @moonssyrup @koibleufish @anamiad00msday @wearemadeofstardust0 @wintertxt @teenwolfbitches28

[mrsmangi]

Hibiscus 🌺🌺🌺

late night call - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: hibiscus - the realization of a friendship becoming something more - meaning: in victorian times, the gift of a hibiscus bloom meant that the giver was acknowledging the receiver’s delicate beauty. ♡ w.c.: 1k ♡ a/n: hi, love! thank you so much for your request. srry for the delay, i'm a bit backed up with requests. she's a short one, but i hope you enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! ↪ prompts that have been requested

“Do you ever think people realize just how loud their ceiling fans are?” 

His voice comes through the phone, low and scratchy, like he’s been lying on his back for too long, staring at his own ceiling. You giggle softly, shifting against the pillow propped against your back. Your own fan spins above you, a rhythmic hum filling the space between his words and yours. 

“It’s white noise,” you say, quieter than usual. “After a while, you get used to it and stop hearing it.” 

“Mm, not tonight,” Luigi sighs. “It’s like the fan’s trying to keep me awake for as long as possible.”

You laugh again, a soft, breathy sound that feels just a bit too loud in the stillness of your room. It’s past midnight–long past the time you’d planned to be asleep–but this is how many of your nights with Luigi go. What starts with casual texts morphs into a phone call, then into hours of talking about nonsense; everything and nothing.

“Maybe it’s just your thoughts,” you tease. “What are the voices yelling at you about tonight?” 

He pauses on the other end of the line, just the faint sound of his breathing audible. You know Luigi well enough by now to know he’s not actively ignoring your question; he’s only deciding how much of himself to give away. 

“Life,” he answers lamely, though the vagueness of the reply altogether makes it clear there’s more to it than that. “Do you ever feel like no matter how much you do to succeed, it’s never enough?” 

You roll onto your side, pressing the phone closer to your ear. The dim glow of your bedside lamp casts uneven shadows against the wall. 

“All the time,” you reply honestly. “It gets exhausting, though. I feel like I’m just running a race no one even cares to watch.” 

He exhales, a sound that crackles through the receiver. When he speaks again, his voice carries the kind of understanding that comes from being seen. “Yeah. I get it.” 

The two of you fall into shared silence, the steady hum of your ceiling fan whispering across the line. You let yourself picture him for a moment–probably sprawled out on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. His phone would be balanced in his other hand. The image feels familiar, like something you’ve seen a thousand times before, even though you haven’t. 

“Can I ask you something?” His voice breaks the quiet.

“Always.” 

He’s quiet again, but you don’t rush him.

“Do you think…” He pauses again, and you can hear the shift of his breathing. “Do you ever think it’s possible for something to change without either person realizing it? Like, to wake up one day and feel like everything’s changed, even though nothing is actually different?” 

“Maybe,” you say cautiously, voice softer now. “Sometimes things can change so slowly you don’t even notice until it’s already different. Then, you find yourself wondering how long it’s been that way.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That’s exactly what I mean.” 

You stare up at the spinning fan, asking him, “What’s different, Luigi?” 

He doesn’t answer right away. His continuous pauses make you grow somewhat uneasy, stretching a distance between you. “Us,” he says. “I think we’re different.” 

You exhale slowly. “Different how?” 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But it’s like every time we talk, it feels different. More important, somehow, like there’s something there that wasn’t before.” He stops and you can nearly hear the way he’s turning the words over rin his head. “I used to just…enjoy talking to you, but now, it feels like I catch myself waiting for it. I’m counting down to the next time I’ll hear your voice. And when we’re not talking, I’m thinking about what I want to tell you the next time I see you, or wondering what you’re doing, or–” He breaks out into nervous laughter, cutting himself off. “Um, does any of that make sense or am I just rambling?” 

It makes perfect sense. Too much sense. Your heart picks up speed, the weight of his words pressing against the thoughts you’ve tried to push to the back of your mind. You notice it too. You’ve felt a change in the way you catch yourself thinking about him at odd moments–when a song reminds you of something he’s said, or when you replay the voice messages he sends just to hear his laugh on repeat. Tonight, he speaks heavier, like he’s cracked open a door you have both been staring at for weeks, maybe longer, unsure of who will turn the handle first. 

“It does,” you whisper. 

There’s a small, nearly imperceptible breath on his end, like he’s been holding it and didn’t even realize. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You chew on your bottom lip, letting the word sink in. “I didn’t know if I should say anything. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.” 

“Me neither,” he says, “but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it. I do. All the time.” 

You close your eyes, the glow of the lamp behind your lids is a soft orange hue. “So, what now?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says. There’s no pretense, no cleverness to soften the edges of his words. “But maybe we can figure it out. Together.” He says his last word carefully, almost like it’s fragile–like it may break under the weight of its meaning if he doesn’t say it the right way. 

You hear him shift, the faint sound of fabric rustling through the receiver. It’s a small thing, but it makes the moment feel so real, tangible, like he’s not just a voice in the dark. You let his words settle over you. Luigi doesn’t have the answers to all your worries and neither do you. But, it feels comforting somehow–to know that he’s with you in this journey, and you with him. 

“Okay,” you say. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You know he can hear it, even if he can’t see it. Your heart is full of love for this boy as you exhale: “Together.”

[meazalykov]

play for the crowd

lauren james x english!influencer!reader : social media + fic

summary: a fake relationship never ends well.. or does it?

warnings: angst, very long chapter

for @pinkyqily + @jackiesunshines

“welcome back to ‘call her daddy,’ babes,” alex starts with her signature grin, leaning closer to the mic. 

“today, we’ve got the it-girl of england sitting across from me. she’s hilarious, she’s fashionable, she’s friends with basically everyone worth knowing—please give it up for y/n!!”

you laugh softly, adjusting your seating in the red fancy chair.

“oh, stop it. you’re hyping me up too much.”

“listen, i only speak the truth on this podcast,” alex replies dramatically, hands gesturing like she’s addressing an audience of thousands. 

“so, let’s just jump right in. your fashion—people are obsessed. i mean, half the girls listening are probably taking notes on your outfit right now as we speak.”

you smile, settling into your seat. 

“i feel like my style is a bit all over the place, to be honest. one day i’ll be in baggy streetwear, the next i’m in a full-on luxury brand look, then i’m in some scandi-inspired minimalism, and before you know it, i’m frolicking in a meadow in a cottagecore dress. i just wear whatever’s cute.”

“so, you’re telling me your closet must look insane.” alex leans forward, clearly intrigued.

“oh, it’s a disaster,” you admit with a laugh. 

“you know when people say, ‘if you can’t see it, you won’t wear it’? yeah, my clothes are in piles. i try to organize, but then i get new stuff, and it’s chaos all over again.”

“and yet you always look put together. how does that even work?”

“magic,” you joke, adjusting your oversized blazer. 

“or maybe just panic dressing.”

alex grins. 

“fair enough. okay, now—this is a call her daddy episode where i am the nosey host, so we have to get into your social life. you’ve got so many famous friends. who’s in your circle? who’s in the inner circle?”

you raise an eyebrow.

“you’re really trying to get the tea, huh?”

“always,” alex says without hesitation. 

“give us something.”

you smirk. 

“well, i’ve got a mix of people, you know? like, models, footballers, actors... it’s a weird little melting pot. i vibe with people who are chill and don’t take life too seriously.”

“what about jude bellingham?” alex’s grin widens, mischief sparkling in her eyes. 

“you’ve been seen with him quite a bit. are we finally getting confirmation here?”

your laugh is immediate, and you shake your head as you roll your eyes playfully. 

“oh my god, no no no absolutely not. jude is not my type at all.”

alex gasps theatrically. 

“wait, hold on. you’re telling me jude bellingham, literal dreamboat that maybe has a million edits of himself, is not your type? do you know how many women would kill for that chance?”

“i’m sure they would,” you reply, still laughing. 

“but, yeah, jude and i are just friends. strictly platonic. in fact, he’s hilarious.”

alex’s eyes narrow in mock suspicion. 

“so, what is your type, then?”

you pause for a moment, knowing the question is loaded. you take a breath, then grin. 

“well, just know that i don’t swing jude’s way.”

alex’s face lights up. 

“ohhh, so you’re into women?” her excitement is palpable.

“yeah,” you say, nodding firmly. 

“i mean, people have speculated for years, so… there you go. confirmed. i like women.”

“iconic,” alex replies, clapping her hands. 

“this is huge!!!! so, do you have a partner? because i feel like everyone’s going to be dying to know now.”

a weight sinks in your chest, but you plaster on a smile. you hate lying, but this is part of the game. 

“i do,” you say carefully, keeping your voice light. 

“but i’m not spilling anything just yet.”

“oh, come on,” alex pleads. 

“not even a little hint?”

you shake your head, laughing softly. 

“nope. but trust me, everyone will know who she is eventually.”

alex groans in mock defeat, throwing her head back. 

“you’re killing me, y/n. absolutely killing me.”

“i gotta keep some mystery, alex,” you tease. 

“otherwise, what’s the fun?”

y/n.l/n

{tagged: yourbsf}

liked by lj10, samanthakerr20, and 101,927 others

y/n.l/n hello 2025

view comments

y/nl/nluvr5 SO CUTE

yourbsf ily

ashley_lawrence10 pretty! 🤩

wosofan2719 why are all of the chelsea girls in her likes?? 🫣

user6282 I thought I was the only one who peeped

random12938 after her podcast with alex on friday, I am convinced y/n's girlfriend is known to the public already. you might be onto something since she is already close with english footballers

madelineargy 😍

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you’re sitting cross-legged on your plush beige couch, the soft hum of a charli xcx playlist filling the quiet of your london apartment. 

a steaming mug of tea sits on the coffee table, untouched, as you absently scroll through your phone. your eyes flick to the clock—just past noon. you’re waiting on lauren to send over the ticket details for tonight’s chelsea vs. arsenal match, the anticipated london derby.

your stomach twists slightly at the thought. not because of the game—you actually enjoy football. it’s the situation you’ve been thrown into that makes you uneasy. 

a fake relationship. a pr stunt. your team’s bright idea to boost both your profiles. it’s not like you haven’t heard the horror stories: influencer friends venting about staged dates, awkward photoshoots, and scripted chemistry with people they couldn’t stand and hated. 

you swore you’d never do something so fake, yet here you are.

your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. it’s a message from lauren.

lauren: hey, just sent your name to the list—tickets will be at will call under 'guest of lj.' fancy title, right?

you smile faintly, typing back.

you: wow, i feel so important. 

you joke. a reply comes almost instantly.

lauren: absolutely. “fake girlfriend to chelsea star.” major clout.

you laugh under your breath, appreciating her humor despite the absurdity of the situation.

you: i can’t lie.. this is all so ridiculous. have you done this kind of thing before?

lauren: nope. first time for me too. i feel like i should apologize in advance if i make this awkward.

you: i was just about to say the same to you. we’ll both be awkward… it’ll balance out.

lauren’s next text takes a second longer to come through.

lauren: for what it’s worth, i know this isn’t ideal. but i promise i’m not a complete nightmare in person like the media can paint me out to be. 

you pause, rereading her message. there’s something about her tone—genuine, almost reassuring. however, you frown at the last part of her message. you have seen the tweets and post that have villainized her about certain situations that have happened between her and other players. you don’t play football, but you understand how intense things can be.

lauren’s genuine personality makes you think that this won’t be as terrible as you’ve been building it up to be.

you: well, if you’re not a nightmare, i guess i can survive one football match. or how ever many as i will need to go to for us. as long as i don’t get smacked with a football in front of your everyone or something.

lauren: if you do, we’ll just blame it on the opposing team.

you laugh again softly, shaking your head. her dry wit feels disarming, and you find yourself a little more curious about meeting her in person. maybe, just maybe, lauren will surprise you.

the cool london air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, pulling your brown puffer coat tighter around yourself. the excitement hums through the blue and red crowds gathered outside the chelsea stadium. 

you glance up at the familiar facade, the blue and white banners waving proudly in the breeze. you’ve been here before, more times than you can count, but tonight feels… different.

you make your way through the gates, clutching the ticket lauren organized for you. your name’s on the guest list, which feels oddly official, even though you know it’s all just for show. navigating the stadium is second nature by now—you’ve been here for england matches, screaming alongside the fans, but you’ve never been here for chelsea. 

the thought feels strange, almost disloyal, considering most of your friends are manchester (city and united) fans through and through.

their reactions flash through your mind, the way they nearly lost it when you casually mentioned you were going on a "date" with a chelsea player.

"you’re joking, right? chelsea? you can’t be serious," one had said, barely hiding their disbelief.

"wait, who is it?" another pressed, practically bouncing in their seat. 

"don’t tell me it’s lucy bronze—no, wait, she just transferred here so i don’t think it's her."

you’d shrugged them off, offering nothing but a sly smile. “you’ll find out soon enough,” you’d teased, leaving them to spiral into speculation. you didn’t have the heart—or the nerve—to explain the truth yet. 

not until you’d met lauren in person, not until you knew how this whole fake relationship would pan out.

as you approach the friends and family section, a subtle wave of nervousness rolls over you. this is it—the start of whatever chaotic media circus your teams have orchestrated. you take a deep breath, smoothing the invisible wrinkles on your coat, and step inside.

you wonder if people will question your presence in that section, why you were here by yourself with none of your friends to accompany you. however, you decide to take the next 90 minutes to collect your thoughts while lauren plays her match.

taking your seat, directly where you can see the middle of the pitch, the noise of the crowd fills your ears as you settle. your focus is razor-sharp. your eyes stay locked on lauren as she moves across the pitch with ease, weaving through arsenal's defense like it’s second nature. 

the game already started three minutes ago.. and she’s good…really good. you knew that already, of course, seeing her play live is something else entirely.

you shift in your seat, trying to keep your expression neutral. the plan is simple: be here, watch the match, and appear supportive. it’s harder than you thought to ignore the weight of the cameras that occasionally pan away from the game and land on you instead. 

you know what the headlines will say. you can already picture the tweets that are posting on twitter as your eye move along lauren’s body.

the speculation is what you’re here for. you tap your fingers against the armrest of your seat, trying to drown out the chatter in your head. this is all part of the plan, you remind yourself. 

still, the questions buzzing online are ones you’re not ready to answer. not yet. this isn’t even real after all.

your eyes dart back to lauren. she’s on the ball again, making a sharp run from a sharp pass from lucy that sets up a near-perfect chance. the crowd erupts, and you find yourself caught between genuine admiration for her skill and the uncomfortable reality of why you’re here. with the cameras on you, though, you know better than to let anything too much slip. 

you lean forward slightly, keeping your attention locked on lauren, as though she’s the only thing that matters in the moment.

the game ends with a 2-1 win for chelsea. you stand awkwardly by the fruit stand in the lounge room area, pretending to be invested in the arrangement of grapes and orange slices. the truth is, you feel out of place. 

this isn’t your scene, and it shows. the other friends and family members seem at ease, chatting and laughing like they belong here. you, however, can’t shake the anxiety in your chest. of course, people recognize you—this is england, after all. your face is plastered on magazine covers and social media feeds. here, in this context, you feel more exposed than ever.

you shift your weight from foot to foot, glancing at the clock on the wall. lauren’s team has just wrapped up their post-match debrief, and any minute now, she’ll walk in. the thought doesn’t help your nerves; if anything, it makes them worse. 

you haven’t even met her in person before, yet the entire world will soon think that she’s your girlfriend. the absurdity of it all threatens to make you laugh, but the knot in your stomach keeps you grounded.

you’re about to reach for a piece of pineapple when you feel a light touch on your shoulder. the sensation startles you, and you turn around quickly, almost dropping the toothpick you’re holding.

“i didn’t know you could be so shy, y/n,” lauren says, her tone teasing but warm. she’s standing there, freshly showered, her hair damp and swept back. the post-match attitude has faded, leaving her looking relaxed, but there’s a spark of curiosity in her eyes as she takes you in.

you smile nervously, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your blazer. 

“well, i’m usually not,” you reply, your voice quieter than you intended. 

“but this is… a little out of my comfort zone.”

lauren’s brows raise slightly, and she steps closer, her presence somehow steadying. 

“really? you, out of your comfort zone? that’s hard to believe.”

you glance down, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. 

“it’s different when it’s not my crowd. football people, you know? i’m more used to influencer events or fashion shows, not… this.”

lauren chuckles softly. 

“well, for what it’s worth, you look like you fit right in. maybe too well. people are already whispering about you.”

“great,” you mutter, trying to keep the sarcasm light but unable to mask your discomfort. 

“exactly what i wanted.”

she tilts her head, studying you for a moment. 

“it’ll die down eventually,” she says, her tone more serious now. 

“but i get it. it’s weird, isn’t it? pretending like this? its going to be worse once we have to tell the media.”

you let out a small laugh, more out of relief that she said it than anything else. 

“weird doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you admit. 

“i mean, we haven’t even met before today, and now the world will think that we’re madly in love. it’s ridiculous.”

lauren nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“yeah, it is. but hey, we’re in this together, right?.”

you meet her gaze. she’s genuine, at least, and that’s something. “you’re right,” you say softly, your smile more genuine now. 

“i guess we’ll figure it out.”

she grins, and the moment feels strangely natural despite the layers of pretense surrounding it. then she gestures toward the lounge area where the other players’ families are gathered. 

“come on. let’s get you out of the corner. they’re going to think i’m a terrible girlfriend if i leave you standing here alone.”

you laugh, following her lead, the tension still present but slightly eased by her presence. it’s strange, walking beside her, knowing that the world will see something entirely different from what you feel inside. 

for now, you push that thought aside and focus on surviving the night.

lj10

{tagged: y/n.l/n}

liked by y/n.l/n, lucybronze, and 131,216 others

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random28383 IS THAT WHO I THINK IT ISSS??????

y/nl8vr MY BABY ON THE THIRD SLIDE

chelseafcwfan7 I KNEW IT WAS LAUREN THAT WAS DATING Y/N

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y/n.l/n 😘😘

user91010 oh that's not..

meazalykov ??

user91010 @/meazalykov i did not expect lauren and y/n no shade..

meazalykov well too bad..

lucybronze hard launch era

catarina_macario 😍😍

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the days throughout the next few weeks blur together in a haze of carefully curated social media posts and staged interactions. every picture, every story, every comment feels like a chess move, calculated for the public eye. 

by now, the world has accepted the narrative—lauren james and y/n l/n, england’s newest power couple.

behind the scenes, it’s a different story entirely. you and lauren barely talk, only exchanging the occasional text when coordinating your next “public moment.” it’s efficient, professional even, but cold. 

you can’t help but feel the growing weight of the disconnect between the facade you show the world and the reality of your relationship. or lack thereof.

yet, something about lauren lingers in your mind. she’s kind in the brief moments you’ve interacted—genuine, with a subtle humor that catches you off guard. you’ve noticed how her quiet demeanor shifts when she’s irritated, her sharp gaze and tense shoulders mirroring your own tells when you’re frustrated. 

it’s a trait that feels too familiar, like looking into a mirror.

sitting on your couch late one evening, your phone in hand, you scroll mindlessly through instagram. you pause looking at the instagram story you posted with lauren, staring at the image, at the way lauren’s hand rests casually on your back in the mirror picture. you’d both laughed during that shoot. the memory stirs something in your chest—a quiet ache you can’t quite place.

she’s fascinating in a way you didn’t expect. it’s not just her talent on the pitch or her rising fame; it’s the little things. the way her smile softens when she’s genuinely amused. the thoughtful pauses she takes before she speaks. the way she seems to carry a quiet confidence, even in the chaos of the public’s attention. 

you shake your head, exhaling sharply. this is ridiculous, you tell yourself. the truth is, you want to know her… the real her, not the polished version you’ve pieced together through brief interactions and online impressions. 

you open your messages, your thumb hovering over her name. for a moment, you consider texting her something—anything—to start a conversation. however, the thought of overstepping, of complicating an already convoluted situation, keeps you frozen. 

with a sigh, you lock your phone and toss it onto the couch beside you.

whatever this is, whatever it could be, will have to wait. for now, you’ll stick to the plan, no matter how much your thoughts keep drifting back to lauren.

y/n.l/n

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y/n.l/n good evening

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lj10 good evening 😍😍

lucybronze its 11:09am..

y/n.l/n again, good evening lucy bronze

lucybronze good evening ig 😒

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random2728 lj and y/n having a private but not secret relationship 🥰

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random10989 wym?

leahwilliamsonn 😍

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the bar is calming, music thrumming in the background as laughter and chatter fill the air. the dim lighting casts a warm glow over the group, everyone mingling and sipping on their drinks. 

you’re perched on a stool near the bar, glancing occasionally at lauren, who’s leaning against the counter, chatting easily with one of her teammates, millie. she looks relaxed, her posture casual, but there’s something about the way her eyes flick to you every so often that has your stomach in knots.

“another drink?” her voice cuts through the noise, her tone light but carrying just enough warmth to catch your attention.

you look up at her, a slight smile tugging at your lips.

“are you trying to get me drunk, lauren?”

she smirks, handing you the glass. 

“maybe. or maybe i just want to make sure you’re having a good time.”

you take a sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol mixed with something sweeter—the way she’s looking at you. 

“thanks,” you murmur. 

“but i can return the favor. what are you drinking?”

“water,” she says simply, holding up her glass. 

“staying hydrated.”

you tilt your head, studying her. 

“water? not even one drink? you’re playing it too safe.”

she shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes. 

“someone has to keep an eye on you.”

you laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it. 

“oh, so now you’re my babysitter?”

“if that’s what you need,” she fires back smoothly, her grin widening.

there’s a moment, a charged pause, where the noise of the bar seems to fade into the background. lauren’s gaze lingers on you, and you feel your cheeks heat under the intensity of it. 

you lean in slightly, emboldened by the drinks and the energy between you.

“careful,” you tease, your voice dropping just enough to match the tension. 

“someone might think you actually care.”

“and what if i do?” she counters, her tone light but her eyes unreadable.

you blink, caught off guard. the banter feels easy, natural, but there’s something underneath it that feels heavier—real. you search her face for a clue, but she keeps her expression steady, a flicker of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth.

“then i’d say you’re doing a great job convincing everyone here,” you say finally, trying to match her confidence, even as your heart races.

her lips curve into a smirk. 

“convincing you, too?”

your breath catches, and for a split second, you don’t know what to say. she watches you, her expression calm but undeniably smug, as though she knows exactly the effect she’s having on you.

“maybe,” you admit, keeping your voice steady despite the way your pulse thunders in your ears.

she chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, and it leaves you feeling both flustered and unmoored. then, as if sensing the moment tipping into something too real, she pulls back slightly, raising her glass of water in a mock toast.

“to good acting,” she says, her voice light but her eyes holding yours a beat too long.

you clink your glass against hers, your stomach twisting as you try to discern whether she’s teasing or deflecting. 

as the night wears on, you can’t shake the way her words, her gaze, her presence—all of it—lingers in the back of your mind. was it an act? or was there something more beneath the surface? you don’t know, and the uncertainty gets at you in a way you didn’t expect.

your drink—something sweet and forgettable—sits untouched in front of you, the condensation pooling around the glass on the counter. the room feels alive as you watch your surroundings again, as lauren’s teammates and your friends fill the dance floor, laughing, swaying to the music, completely at ease. 

you, however, feel like a misplaced puzzle piece.

you’re here for a purpose, after all—not to let loose, but to be seen. you and lauren were both instructed to attend, to sit in proximity long enough for someone to notice, snap a photo, and post it online. the public needed to see the happy “couple” out and about, living their seemingly charmed lives. 

that was the plan. it always is. however, something about tonight feels off.. or maybe it’s you that feels off. 

your eyes drift to lauren, who’s sitting a few stools away at this point, talking to sjoeke. lauren’s body language is relaxed, her posture casual, and she exudes that effortless charm you’ve come to associate with her. her laugh carries over the music, soft but genuine, and it’s disarming. 

you’ve seen her in a dozen different settings by now—on the pitch, in interviews, even in those staged photoshoots your teams made you do together—but she always carries the same quiet confidence. 

“why do i care so much about her flirting earlier?” the thought hits you suddenly, and you blink, startled by your own realization. you know you shouldn’t care. it’s not like there’s anything real between you two. this is business, nothing more. 

you’re about to take a sip of your drink when movement catches your eye. a brunette woman, her steps uneven and her smile a little too wide, weaves her way through the crowd and makes a beeline for lauren. 

she stops next to her, leaning on the counter for balance before sliding onto the stool beside her. 

at first, you think nothing of it. people approach lauren all the time; it comes with the territory of her being a footballer.. then you notice the way the woman leans in, her body language screaming flirtation. 

even over the music, you catch snippets of her words. 

“i’ve been watching you all night,” the brunette says, her voice slurred but still clear enough to make your chest tighten. 

you force yourself to look away, focusing instead on the condensation trailing down your glass. but your attention snaps back when you hear lauren laugh—a soft, polite chuckle that quickly morphs into something warmer. she’s flirting back. 

it’s subtle, nothing overt, but it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

you grip the edge of your stool, willing yourself to stay calm. this doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. this isn’t real. lauren is a footballer—a brilliant, talented, and undeniably attractive one. of course people are drawn to her. of course she’s going to flirt back.

you remind yourself that you’re just the one her pr team picked for this charade. nothing more. 

the tightness in your chest refuses to go away. watching lauren lean in closer to the brunette, her smile softening, feels like a punch to the gut and worse, it makes you question things you don’t want to question. 

like why you even care in the first place.

the noise of the bar feels suffocating, and before you know it, you’re sliding off the stool and heading toward the bathroom. the music dulls as you push through the door, and the quieter space is a welcome reprieve.

then, your eyes land on zion and amber. 

your two friends are tucked into a corner of the bathroom, lost in their own world. amber’s hands are tangled in zion’s hair, and zion’s lips are pressed firmly against amber’s. they don’t even notice you until the door clicks shut behind you. 

zion pulls back first, her face flushed. “y/n?” she asks, stepping forward. 

“you okay?”

you hesitate, the weight of the night pressing heavily on your chest. you don’t want to talk about it, but the lump in your throat makes it clear that you need to. 

“not really,” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended.

amber straightens, exchanging a quick glance with zion before walking over to you. 

“what’s going on?” she asks, concern evident in her tone.

just like that, everything comes pouring out. the fake relationship, the constant public scrutiny, the pressure to perform for an audience you didn’t ask for. you tell them about the brunette at the bar, how lauren flirted back, and how much it hurt even though it shouldn’t have. when you’re done, you feel a little lighter, but the knot in your chest remains.

zion crosses her arms, her brow furrowed in thought. 

“y/n,” she says carefully, “are you… catching feelings for lauren?”

the question hangs in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. your first instinct is to deny it, to brush it off as ridiculous. but the truth gnaws at you, undeniable and unrelenting. you don’t say anything, which is answer enough.

amber steps closer, placing a hand on your arm. “look,” she says gently, “you need to figure this out. either you tell her how you feel and end this whole fake thing, or you set some serious boundaries before you get hurt.”

you nod slowly, the reality of her words settling over you like a weight. “yeah,” you murmur. 

“you’re right.”

as you stand there, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, the question lingers in your mind. 

how did i even let this happen?

the days pass in a haze of avoidance and overthinking. 

you bury yourself in work, content for tiktok, and anything else that keeps you busy enough to ignore the fluttering in your chest every time you think of lauren. it’s not hard to avoid her; after all, your only real interactions have been the orchestrated ones... lunches, coffee dates, the occasional walk in the park, all designed to feed the narrative. 

without the need for those, you manage to keep your distance.

your phone buzzes occasionally with texts from lauren. nothing accusatory or probing, just polite questions about when your next outing is or casual jokes about how your pr teams must be getting impatient about when the next outing will be. 

each message makes your stomach twist, the guilt poking at you. she doesn’t deserve to be avoided, but you can’t bring yourself to face her right now.

the bathroom conversation at the bar replays in your head on a loop. amber’s words, “set boundaries or tell her how you feel,” echo louder with each passing day. it feels like you’ve done neither, stuck somewhere in limbo, unsure of what to do. 

all you know is that seeing lauren flirt with someone else hurt more than it should have. and now, it’s painfully clear why.

you caught feelings. 

the realization had hit you like a train that night, leaving you panicked. you’ve spent years building walls around yourself, keeping relationships at arm’s length, unwilling to let anyone in after your last heartbreak. yet here you are, feelings growing for someone who isn’t even truly yours. 

lauren’s face lingers in your mind far more often than you’d like. the chelsea player’s quiet humor, her thoughtfulness, the way her smile lights up when she’s genuinely happy.. it’s all etched into your brain, no matter how much you try to push it away. 

the worst part? you know this is going nowhere. fake relationships don’t magically become real, and even if they did, there’s no guarantee lauren feels the same.

you sit on your couch, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. the notifications pile up—comments on your latest post, messages from friends, an email from your team about your next public appearance. 

you can’t bring yourself to focus on any of it. all you can think about is how scared you are that you’ve made a mistake, one that’s far too late to undo.

hours later.. around midnight.. you’re curled up on your couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs as you dig into a bowl of rice and chicken. the dim glow of the tv lights up the room, the suspenseful soundtrack of squid game filling the air. 

it’s the perfect distraction, engrossing enough to keep your thoughts at bay, even if just for a little while.

then, a faint knock interrupts the quiet. at first, you assume it’s coming from the show, but when it happens again, you freeze. your eyes flick to the door. you weren’t expecting anyone, and frankly, you’ve been avoiding everyone for the last few days. 

the knocking persists, steady and deliberate, until you reluctantly pause the show and get up.

your heart races as you peek through the peephole. the sight of lauren standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie, sends your mind spiraling. 

what is she doing here? how did she get my address?

you open the door slowly, your confusion evident. 

“lauren?” you ask, your voice wary. 

“what are you doing here? how did you even know where i live?”

she offers a small smile, almost sheepish. 

“hey. i asked madeline. hope that’s okay.”

you step aside, letting her in despite your confusion at why she would go so far to ask your mutual friend what your address was. lauren looks around, her eyes landing on the paused screen of squid game. 

“season two?” she asks, nodding toward the tv. 

“is it any good? haven’t had the chance to watch it yet because of training.”

“so far, yeah,” you reply, your tone cautious. 

“like the first season. but… why are you here?”

she turns to face you, her expression soft but serious. 

“i came to talk to you. you’ve been avoiding everyone.. me included.. and it’s not like you. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you try to brush it off, waving a hand dismissively. 

“i’m fine. just needed some space, that’s all.”

lauren doesn’t budge. she crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly. 

“come on, y/n. i know something’s wrong. you can’t just disappear like that and expect no one to notice.”

you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. 

“what does it matter? you probably have a real date to get to or something.”

she frowns, her brows knitting together. 

“what are you talking about? i don’t have a real date. why would you say that?”

your heart pounds in your chest, but you push forward, your voice tinged with frustration. 

“do you have a real partner, lauren? someone you’re seeing while we’re doing this… this fake thing?”

lauren’s confusion deepens. 

“what? no. where is this even coming from?”

the tension boils over, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out. 

“because it’s driving me insane, lauren! this whole fake relationship thing.. it’s messing with my head. i can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s not just for the cameras or the public or whatever. i caught feelings, okay? within these few months of pretending to be your girlfriend, i somehow…. god, i don’t even know. i like you and i know that’s not part of the plan, so if this makes things too complicated, we can stop. i get it.”

the room goes quiet, your words hanging heavily in the air. lauren’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you brace yourself for rejection. but then her expression shifts… softening into something that looks like relief.

“wait,” she says, stepping closer. 

“are you serious?”

you nod, your heart in your throat. 

“yeah. and if that’s too much, just say the word, and we can call this off. i’ll tell the pr team about the situation myself.”

lauren shakes her head quickly. “no, no. you’re not calling anything off.” her voice is steady, her gaze locked onto yours. 

“if we’re going to stop the fake relationship, it’s only because we’re starting a real one.”

your brows knit together, confusion washing over you. 

“what are you saying?”

she takes a breath, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. 

“i’m saying that i’ve caught feelings too. you’re kind, funny, and beautiful.. completely yourself no matter the situation. you’re the kind of person who i love spending my time with, even for something as ridiculous as a fake relationship, this has been the best part of my year.”

you stare at her, your brain struggling to catch up. 

“you… like me?”

“yeah,” she says, her smile widening. 

“i like you, y/n. for real, nothing fake.”

the tension in your chest finally loosens, replaced by something warm and overwhelming. 

“so, what do we do now?”

lauren grins, her expression brighter than you’ve ever seen it. 

“first, i’m calling the pr team and telling them we’re done with this fake stuff. after that, we’ll figure it out. together.”

you let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over you. 

“okay. yeah. let’s do that.”

she glances at the tv, her grin turning playful. 

“before that, can we watch the rest of this? i’ve been meaning to start season two.”

you laugh, gesturing to the couch. 

“sure, but you’re sharing my blanket.”

lauren plops down beside you, pulling the blanket over her legs as the two of you settle in. for the first time in weeks, everything feels right.

also real.. 

masterlist

happy very early birthday aj 😆

[hiiikiko]

𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕝!𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖

rival!ellie x reader | tlou m.list

────୨ৎ────

rival!ellie met you on the first day of the winter quarter, she didn’t think much of you but bit back a chuckle at your dorky scarf and beanie

rival!ellie who gradually realizes what a nuisance you’ll be to her spotless academic record.. she’s never actually had to study before but now she’s hitting the books to make sure that you don’t surpass her

rival!ellie who kinda hates your guts.. she can’t stand the way you effortlessly answer the professors questions, especially since you’re the reason she’s been missing out on parties by being in the library so much

rival!ellie who has to admit, she admires your hard work and dedication… even if it makes her lose her mind that you know how to perfectly sketch an HR diagram for a typical global cluster and identify the various observed populations and interpret them on the basis of stellar evolution theory

rival!ellie who grows closer with you… not because she likes you, of course! more so because the professor keeps grouping you together, saying stupid bullshit like “it must be lonely at the top and now you have a friend, ellie!” or “great minds think alike, therefore, you’ll be great friends”

rival!ellie who declines all your offers to hangout

rival!ellie who refuses to acknowledge the shared interests the two of you have… like there’s no way in hell that you’re as big of a Savage Starlight fan as she is, fuckin poser lol

rival!ellie who rants about you to anyone that listens… it’s getting to be a big problem in her circle, so much so that Jesse and Dina are beginning to think that she actually has a crush on you….. hmm

rival!ellie who’s a little more than hurt when you deny over and over that you two have potential as a couple

rival!ellie who decides to take ‘revenge’ out on you by making out with random girls in the hallway, all the while making eye contact with you and smirking when you mouth the words ‘you’re such a pig’ to her

rival!ellie who smirks when she realizes that you’ve heard about how amazing she is in bed, the way you avoid making eye contact with her in the middle of a heated argument is enough to let on that you know

rival!ellie who loves loves loves seeing you sad about the fact that she exceeds you in every subject that is until…

rival!ellie who’s wold comes crashing down around her when you get one point above her on a test.. she literally crashes out like think bella in new moon type crashing out.. she finally picks herself back up, trudges to the library to hit the books and get back into it.. she will not be second to you again.

rival!ellie who kinda becomes a stalker… she can’t help it, she needs to know how you got that one point above her score! like, it’s never been heard of in Blackwell…. she must know

rival!ellie who when you finally confront her about her stalking, scoffs and shakes her head n says “you wish, dumbass” you roll your eyes and invite her to study with you, since she’s so curious… which she takes up.. not because she wants to spend time with you! it’s just keep your enemies close, right??

rival!ellie who can hardly focus on your study date hangout (??), like you’re so close… how can someone be this smart and pretty, i mean annoying.. you also smell really good… what is that? vanilla?

rival!ellie who makes these study ‘hangouts’ a regular thing… whether you know it or not, she hangs around the table where you study and acts like it’s a coincidence and says ‘i was here first, stupid’

rival!ellie who tucks a strand of hair behind you on one of these ‘hangouts’ and when you look up at her with those pretty doe eyes she smacks the side of your head and mutters something about a fly being on you and that you should probably take a shower or something

rival!ellie who kinda starts to grow fond of you… you’re the only person who actually gets her witty astrophysics puns and jokes, it feels nice not having to explain herself all the time

rival!ellie who’s jaw drops like a 42lb block of tungsten when she finds out that you of all people have a girlfriend… like come on! who would date you?! you’re stupid, annoying… okay, so you’re also kinda smart, pretty, hot… ahem! not that she’s noticed!

rival!ellie who then trash talks your girlfriend to her friends: ‘she obviously had shit taste in girls like come on, that nerd is the best she could do? ha!”

rival!ellie who overhears your girlfriend talking rather grossly about you in the locker room and shoves her into the locker but it’s not like she’s defending your honour or whatever. she’s a feminist! talking that way about any woman makes her blood boil!

rival!ellie who grumbles when you lecture her about how she’s taken your little rivalry too far by giving your now ex girlfriend a bloody nose… as you press a bag of peas against ellie’s black eye

rival!ellie who now likes frozen peas

rival!ellie who kinda likes the way you take care of her after the fight, smiling slightly and wearing her blackened eye like a badge of honour, like she’s your white knight.. or whatever, she doesn’t care

rival!ellie who scares off any guy/girl that looks at you because she feels weirdly possessive of you, like… you’re her rival, not theirs!

rival!ellie who FINALLY accepts her crush on you after countless lectures from Dina and Jesse…

rival!ellie who trash talks any romantic interest of yours “oh come on, they’re not even that hot… i’m way hotter than them, right Dina?” “whaaaat the totally flunked last semesters exam, pfft”

rival!ellie who’s still very, very competitive with you but now finds it kinda cute and sexy when you gloat about how you bested her in another quiz

rival!ellie who begins to make advances on you… starting off with a simple bet like loser buys the other a soda then working up to loser does whatever the other wants and you being the overly confident academic that you are agree

rival!ellie who pours herself into studying, even putting down her comics in preparation for the next quiz… she’d rather be damned than lose to you, she needs to win this

rival!ellie who wins! but that means… you have to do whatever she wants….

“i want a kiss,” ellie sneers, her finger under your chin

“excuse me?”

“you heard me” she leans back against the desk, “i want a kiss”

you cross your arms, what the hell was she thinking? is she high? has she gone mad? i mean, you often hear about geniuses going mad— but before you can finish that thought, ellie is pulling you in for a kiss, in the middle of the classroom… it’s sweet and her kiss is almost hungry, like she’s been waiting for this

she finally pulls away and with a chuckle says “huh, guess you come in second for kissing too”

what an asshole but you’re not one too pass up a challenge…. so… you invite her back to your dorm room

[littleslaywrites]

i will be your preacher, teacher | aaron hotchner x reader

nsfw, mdni

summary: based on father figure by george michael. hotch can no longer resist his feelings toward his younger subordinate when you knock on his hotel room door.

word count: 2.8k

cw: smut, age gap, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, fingering, corruption, slight size kink, p in v, brief dom!hotch, song lyrics in bold italics

Aaron Hotchner was a smart man. His career showed the proof: law school, accomplished prosecutor, unit chief. But this was stupid. You made him stupid. 

He tried to resist, to keep you out of his mind. When the fantasies of you under him infiltrated his thoughts, he’d banish them in the same way he tried to forget the details of haunting cases.

Yet, here you were, standing in the doorway of his hotel room. The sight of you had been driving him crazy all day. You’d worn a tank top to the precinct that day, trying to fight the heat that had met you when you arrived for the investigation. It was more skin that you’d shown before, and Aaron greedily wanted to see even more. 

That's all I wanted, something special

He couldn’t though. He was not only your boss, but also 20 years older than you. So he ignored you all day, fighting the urge to even look at you. Even Dave had mentioned his attitude, pointing out the obvious frustration he displayed. He brushed it off with some excuse about being stressed about the case, which he was sure was an obvious lie.

The second he opened the door, he regretted it. He should’ve ignored your knocking, because now you were right in front of him, still in that tank top. Even in the hotel lighting, you looked good. Really good. The slight sliver of skin peeking from above your jeans, the bra strap that escaped the cover of your shirt, the hair that falls around your face. 

“I just wanted to talk to you,” you said. “Did I do something wrong?”

Your words catch him off guard. Of course you’d noticed his avoidance. His hand balled up into a fist by his side. 

“Come in.” 

Another mistake. He has no idea why he said that. The last thing he needs is to see you in his room. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

Something sacred in your eyes

The look you give him has his mind racing, and not one of the thoughts he has is appropriate. He can almost picture you on the bed. He tries to look away from your eyes, but with his height advantage, he can see straight down your low cut top. 

“I’m not mad at you.”

“It’s just…” you trail off, suddenly shy from the situation. “You’ve been snappy with me all day.”

You would never admit it, even to your closest friends, but Aaron had been on your mind, too. Ever since you first joined the BAU and introduced yourself, he’d been the last thing you thought of before bed every night. Today he looked especially good, jacket off due to the heat. His shirt was so tight that you thought the buttons could pop off with a single wrong move. When he had refused to look your way, even when you shared your theories with the team, you became paranoid. You feared he profiled the crush you had on him. You’d come to his door for some peace of mind, hoping for an explanation of his behavior. 

That's all you wanted, something special, someone sacred in your life

“It’s nothing.” His eyes are drilling into yours. You’re trying to read him, knowing he’s hiding something from you.

A sudden boldness comes over you. You’re annoyed that he’s treated you like this all day, and has nothing to say for himself. “It doesn’t seem like nothing.” 

There’s no going back now that you’ve backtalked your boss. You decide to commit, walking closer to him. 

Aaron is slightly taken aback by your attitude. He almost laughs at you, humored by your attempt to control the conversation. 

“That’s no way to speak to your superior,” he chastises.

It’s a good thing the room is dark, otherwise he’d be able to see the blush invading your face. You feel a wetness between your thighs. When you get back to your room, you’re going to have to take care of yourself. You curse internally, embarrassed that this is how you are affected when your boss yells at you. 

Just for one moment, to be warm and naked, at my side

You have no words, but it’s too late to back down. So you stand there, staring. He realizes you’re going to be stubborn, and closes the gap between you. Now that he’s right in front of you, he can see the way your eyes have darkened. A thought flashes in his mind briefly: you might want him, too. He feels blood rush to his cock, and he can only hope that you won’t see.

“Or what?” you finally muster up. 

You’ve been locked in a staring contest, but his eyes intensify in a way that automatically makes you look down, reminding you that your bravery was simply an act. Your eyes stop in their path to the floor when you catch a glimpse of Aaron’s crotch. The light is too low to tell for sure, but the question is still there. Is he…

Sometimes I think that you'll never understand me

“Insubordination is a punishable offense.” It’s the most professional thing he can think of, especially when he’s praying you don’t notice the hardness under his suit pants.

His words have another rush of wetness pooling in your underwear. Before you can even calculate the risk you’re taking, you speak up again.

“Punish me, then.”

A heaviness settles in the air in the wake of your words. 

“What did you say to me?”

Your eyes are glued to the floor.

“Look at me.” He takes your jaw in his hand and forces your eyes to meet his. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying, little girl.”

You look away again. It’s a nickname you’re not unfamiliar with, the team using it whenever they need to tease you about being the youngest member of the team. This is a different kind of teasing, Aaron’s grip tightening on your jaw. 

“I mean what I say,” you reply, looking back up. 

He knows he should tell you to leave. He should let go of your jaw and forget all of it. He’s a rule follower, and this goes directly against all the rules he swore to obey when he took his position. It is against everything he says he is, all the moral codes he follows. 

But something tells me together we'd be happy

Fuck it.

“Is that what you want?” He lean his forehead is against yours. “Am I what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, overwhelmed by his closeness. You hardly believe this is really happening. You’re sure at any moment he’ll pull back or you’ll wake up from a dream.

“Then strip.” 

You obey, walking backwards as his eyes bore into you. You kick off the slippers you’re wearing, then take off your tank top. You can feel him studying you as you remove your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear.

“Keep going.”

You remove your bra slowly, putting on a show for him. When you shimmy out of your panties, you fight the urge to cover yourself up. He’s still fully clothed, emphasizing how exposed you are. 

Sensing your shyness, he walks up to you again, planting his hands on your waist. His touch is nothing short of explosive, finally feeling his skin against yours. Finally, he kisses you. His lips are softer than you imagined. Your doubt washes away, touch gently guiding you to trust him.

If you ever hunger, hunger for me

When he pulls back, his eyes are still closed, your noses touching. “I’m too old for you.”

“I know,” you say breathlessly. 

You unbutton his shirt, tie removed before you knocked on his door. He shrugs it off as you remove his belt, and he’s putty under your hands when you brush against his hard on.

“Is that part of the appeal?” he questions. “Did your own father not treat you right?”

You know his question is rhetorical, so you only answer by unbuttoning his pants. 

Whatever you ask for, that's what I'll be

“Get on the bed,” he whispers in your ear. You lay down, watching him take his undershirt off. He’s left only in his boxers when he crawls on top of you. 

He cages you under his body, kissing you again. You can feel his hard cock rubbing against your thigh as his tongue pushes between your lips. 

Because all I ever wanted, it's in your eyes

You’re wetter than you can ever remember being. Your hips mindlessly wriggle, searching for any possible friction. Sensing your desperation, Aaron slides a finger inside you. You cry out, a reaction that would seem exaggerated if he didn’t feel how soaked you are. 

“Aaron, I–” It almost feels forbidden to use his first name, but you can’t imagine calling him anything else, not with him touching you like he is.

“Yes?” he asks, finger stroking the inside of your walls.

“I’ve never…” You trail off, blushing at your admission. You lower your voice to a whisper. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Shh,” he hushes, planting a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”

And love can't lie, no

He adds another finger, flattening his palm so it’s up against your clit. You’re whimpering, overtaken by the feeling of being touched by another person in this way for the first time. His large fingers are finding places you can't reach yourself.

“Please, Aaron, I can’t take it anymore.” Your words come out slowly, you’re hardly able to form a thought, let alone string together a sentence. “Just fuck me.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. He wanted to get you ready, have you open before he thought of stretching you out.

“Yes,” you whine, hipping jerking up to rub your clit against his hand. 

He pulls his fingers out of you, removing his underwear. You catch a groan in your throat when he reveals his cock. It’s large enough so that you start to worry.

Seeing the hesitance in your eyes, he kisses you again. Any intimidation he used earlier is gone, replaced by gentleness. 

Greet me with the eyes of a child, heaven is a kiss and a smile

“Are you sure you want this?” he says against your lips. He withdraws slightly, mind racing with thoughts again. He can’t be the one to take your virginity. You’re half his age, vulnerable beneath him. “You should find someone your own age.”

“I need you. I need it to be you. Show me how.”

Your words reassure him, and he can no longer resist his urges. One of his hands reaches for your thigh, hooking it around your waist. Your pussy is pulsing around nothing, needing him inside you. 

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he says, running his cock through your wet folds. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Just hold on, and I won't let you go

He guides himself to you, starting by pushing just his tip inside. He exhales shakily, feeling the way you’re already gripping him. 

He gets about two-thirds in before you put a hand on his chest to slow him down. 

“Are you okay?”

“Just… give me a second.” 

He brings a hand down to your clit, softly circling it to chase the tension for your muscles. You grab his hair, and he takes that as the signal to press all the way inside you.

Both of you moan as he bottoms out. He doesn’t move yet, instead grabbing your hand in his large one, squeezing it slightly. The moment has transformed into something completely different than the way it started. It’s not a hate fuck, you’re not mad at each other, he’s not punishing you. It’s intimate, and a hopeful part of you even thinks it’s something akin to love.

I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine

He slowly drags his cock away, and then thrusts back in. You let out a moan, feeling every ridge of his cock along your walls. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. So full, so complete. You wonder how you’ll ever feel whole again when he’s no longer inside you.

“You feel so good,” he groans in your ear as he slowly thrusts, letting you get used to the feeling. “So tight.”

Your mind is blank, thinking only of the way you can feel his tip moving inside you, dragging along the inside of you and hitting your g-spot with each thrust. It doesn’t feel wrong to be fucking your superior, not when you’re looking up at the way the sweat is beading on his forehead. 

He starts to speed up, desperate to bring you to your release. Your whimpers spur him on, driven by the pleasure he’s giving you. He wants his cock to be the first one you cum around.

I will be your preacher, teacher, anything you have in mind

The new speed makes you think he might actually split you open. You can’t control the sounds you make, shameless beneath him. You reach the hand that’s not holding his up to grab his back, clinging on to anything you can find.

He can tell you’re close by the way your pussy is fluttering around him. He doesn’t expect you to say anything, as you’re clearly overcome with pleasure by the look on your face. Looking at you under him, he feels his own release nearing. You’re a beautiful mess, a singular trail of mascara running under one of your eyes. Your mouth is open, moans getting louder as you get nearer to your orgasm. Watching the way your lips move, he leans down to kiss you, capturing your noise in his mouth. 

I will be your father figure, I have had enough of crime

His kiss is enough to send you over. Breath hitching, you go limp. You can’t help the way your hand curls, nails scratching down his back. Your back arches, hips trying to get as close as possible to his. 

No orgasm you’ve given yourself can compare to this feeling. Your legs start to shake, toes pointing. You clench around him so hard that he has to work to keep moving. 

You're still lost in the pleasure of your own release when he cums. He stills, holding you close as you feel the warmth shoot deep inside you. Letting his head fall to your neck, he lets out a loud groan, working not to collapse on top of you. 

When he rolls over to his back and his cock slips out, you miss the feeling of being full. He pulls you into his arms, the two of you laying on your sides, facing each other. You lay your head on his chest, comforted by the smell of his cologne mixing with sweat. 

“How are you feeling?” he says, breaking the silence.

“Good. That felt really good.”

He pulls you closer, running a hand through your hair.

“I’m glad it was you,” you say, realizing that you’re suddenly feeling sentimental toward him.

“I wasn’t mad at you today,” he admits, ashamed of his earlier behavior. “I’ve just wanted you for a long time. I was frustrated.”

You smile into his chest, flushing at the admission. “Me, too”

You fall into stillness again. 

Aaron is the one to break the silence again. “I don’t want you to think this is just physical.”

You meet his eyes. There’s a certain vulnerability in them, something you’ve never seen before. He always has his walls up around the team, so this is a new side of him. He doesn’t say he loves you, but his eyes scream it. You say it back with your own gaze.

“I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you into more,” he explains, “I just want you to know it’s… I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t actually like you.”

“Me, neither,” you answer back.

There’s still more to say, more to work out, but these words are enough for tonight. It’d probably be too complicated to be real, but you have him behind closed doors. The team would never understand this, only seeing the age gap. They’d never grasp the way you let each other in. You understand, though. You understand the way he opens himself up to you, the way he lowers his defense in your arms. And he understands how you let him guide you, letting him feel you in the way nobody else has. 

I will be the one who loves you 'til the end of time

[magical-reid]

Only if You Hold My Hand

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Prompt: 7: “Go with me?” “Only if you hold my hand.”

Summary: Nervously, you ask Spencer to join you at a pop-up art exhibit, only to have him unexpectedly request that you hold his hand to help him navigate the crowds. As the evening unfolds, the simple gesture sparks the beginning of something more between the two of you.

The BAU’s bullpen was unusually quiet for a Thursday evening, the soft hum of computers and the occasional rustling of papers the only sounds breaking the stillness. A low murmur of voices drifted from the break room, but it did little to disrupt the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. You were seated at your desk, nervously twirling a pen between your fingers, your mind circling around the task you’d set for yourself. Spencer sat a few desks away, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked through a stack of case files, his posture so focused it was almost as if the world had shrunk down to the papers in front of him.

You had been staring at him for the better part of ten minutes, your thoughts racing but never quite finding the words you needed. The sensation of nerves bubbled in your stomach, leaving you restless. Your heart thudded unevenly in your chest, a constant reminder of the request you were about to make. Your palms, damp with anxiety, clung to the cool surface of your desk. It was a simple request, really—asking Spencer to go somewhere with you. Yet the mere thought of asking him, someone who had quietly captured your heart over the last year, left you on edge.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you’d been planning for this moment all day. The art exhibit was an easy excuse—something you’d found out about earlier in the week. But it was never really about the exhibit. You just wanted to spend time with him, in a way that felt normal and unforced. Still, as you watched him read the case files, you couldn’t shake the fear of being rejected.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand, your legs feeling a little unsteady as you walked toward him. The clack of your shoes against the hard floor seemed loud in the otherwise quiet bullpen, but you forced yourself to keep going.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice a little too high, betraying the nervousness you were trying so hard to keep in check. You swallowed, your throat tight as you tried again, this time forcing a casual tone. “I was wondering if you’d come with me to something.”

He looked up from his case files, his honey-brown eyes soft behind his glasses, taking in the sudden shift in your demeanor. He blinked, setting the file down carefully as he adjusted his position in his chair. “Oh, hey,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Did you need help with something?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean, yes, but not with a case.” You paused, taking a steadying breath as you clasped your hands together, trying to keep them from fidgeting. “I just… There’s this thing happening downtown tonight. A pop-up art exhibit. I thought it might be fun, but I didn’t want to go alone.”

His brows furrowed slightly, his expression shifting from curiosity to a mix of surprise and thoughtfulness. He tilted his head in that familiar way that made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d overstepped. Spencer, after all, was rarely the first to say yes to an invitation that took him outside his comfort zone.

“Go with you?” he repeated, his voice thoughtful, but not dismissive.

You nodded quickly, biting your lip, and your words rushed out, almost a breathless confession. “Yeah. It’s no big deal, just something I thought would be fun. But, you know, I didn’t want to go alone. I thought maybe you’d want to join me?”

Spencer’s gaze flickered over your face, lingering there in a way that made your cheeks flush with heat. His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something, but then he hesitated, brow furrowing in that way that made you wonder if you’d misjudged the situation. A few long seconds stretched on between you, your stomach tightening with each passing moment. But then, to your surprise, he gave you a small, shy smile—one you had come to cherish over the last few months, even if he didn’t always realize how much it meant.

“I’d love to go,” he said, his voice tentative but warm. “But… I have to admit, I’m not great with crowds.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, a gesture that mirrored the anxious energy you were feeling. “I think I’d feel better if, uh… if we held hands while we were there.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the unexpected sweetness of his request throwing you off balance. It was almost too much for a moment—Spencer, the man who was brilliant and awkward in equal measure, asking for something so simple, yet so intimate.

“What?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to fully grasp what he had just said.

He ducked his head slightly, a pink hue blooming across his cheeks as he stammered. “I mean… I just—I think I’d feel a lot better if you, you know… held my hand. Would that be okay?”

Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his voice. The quiet, tentative way he asked was so very Spencer, and it softened you in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I’d be happy to,” you said softly, your lips curving into a smile that felt more genuine than you’d expected.

A visible wave of relief washed over him, his shoulders relaxing as he seemed to find solid ground again. You caught him fidgeting with the edge of the file he had been holding, his fingers nervously drumming the paper as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Okay,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Let me just grab my coat.”

You smiled as he stood and moved to his desk, gathering his things. The tension in the air between you had shifted, replaced by something warmer, more comfortable. The nerves that had gripped you both seemed to fade as Spencer slipped on his jacket, and the two of you stepped out of the bullpen together.

As you made your way toward the elevator, the crisp evening air welcoming you outside, your hand brushed against his. The contact, so brief yet electric, sent a jolt through you, and you hesitated for only a second. Then, with a little more confidence than you felt, you slipped your fingers between his, intertwining them in a way that felt so natural, so right, that it made your heart beat faster.

Spencer glanced down at your joined hands, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes softened told you everything you needed to know.

“Thanks for asking me,” he said quietly, his voice so tender that it made your chest feel full.

You squeezed his hand gently, your heart racing but in a different way now. “Thanks for saying yes.”

In that simple moment, walking side by side toward the evening ahead, you knew that tonight wouldn’t just be the start of something new—it would be the beginning of a journey neither of you had fully anticipated, but both were more than ready to embrace.

[mindless-existence1]

HIHIHI Could you write a Shadow x reader (romantic)who loves space and tells him all about like where which constellation n allat?

Authors note: So I don't know anything about stars so I asked my friend who does and he told me about these so if they are wrong blame him. Also thanks for sending the request!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night sky above Green Hills stretched endlessly, the stars twinkling like diamonds scattered across a sea of black velvet.

Shadow stood silently at the crest of a hill just outside of town, his crimson eyes fixed on the expanse above. Beside him, you were bouncing with excitement, the cold air forgotten as you pointed upward.

“You can see so much more out here,” you marveled, scanning the heavens. “No light pollution to ruin the view.”

Shadow glanced at you, his expression neutral, though a faint softness lingered in his gaze. “That’s why I brought you here. You mentioned wanting a better look.

Your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. Despite his gruff demeanor, Shadow always had a way of making you feel seen and appreciated. You plopped onto the soft grass and patted the spot next to you.

“Come on, sit with me. You can’t just stand there brooding all night.” With a quiet huff, Shadow lowered himself beside you, his movements deliberate and measured.

He rested his arms on his knees, his attention split between you and the stars.“Okay,” you began, pointing to the sky.

“That’s Orion’s Belt right there—see the three stars in a row? And over there is Taurus, the bull. You can tell by the V-shape of its horns.” Shadow followed your gestures, his eyes narrowing slightly as he traced the patterns you described.

“You know a lot about this,” he remarked, his tone calm but intrigued. “Oh, you haven’t even heard the half of it,” you replied, grinning.

“Space is fascinating. Did you know that Betelgeuse, one of the stars in Orion, is a red supergiant? It’s so big that if it replaced our sun, it would extend past Jupiter!”

Shadow tilted his head, his lips quirking in what might have been the beginnings of a smile. “I see why you find it interesting,” he said. “It’s… vast.”

You nodded enthusiastically, launching into an explanation about black holes and neutron stars, your voice animated as you shared fact after fact.

Shadow listened intently, his silence encouraging you to keep going. At one point, you paused, glancing over at him.

“Am I talking too much?” Shadow shook his head. “No. I prefer this to silence.”His answer warmed you, and you turned your attention back to the sky.

“You know,” you said after a moment, “the universe is so big and full of mysteries. It makes you feel small, but in a good way. Like, even the worst day doesn’t matter on a cosmic scale.”

Shadow considered this, his gaze drifting upward. “Maybe that’s why I’ve always liked the stars,” he admitted softly.

“They’re constant. Unchanging.” You smiled, leaning your shoulder against his. “And beautiful. Like you, when you’re not scowling.”

He gave you a sideways glance, the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I don’t scowl that much,” he muttered.

You giggled, reaching out to lightly squeeze his hand. “Thanks for bringing me here, Shadow. It means a lot.”

He hesitated for a moment before entwining his fingers with yours. “You’re welcome,” he said simply, his voice low but sincere.

For the rest of the night, you continued pointing out constellations and sharing everything you knew about the cosmos, while Shadow sat quietly, content just to be by your side.

[simplygojo]

Your Brother's Best Friend ⸺ Gojo

author's note ⸺ Hi all! I apologize for being offline for the holidday season, wanted to spend lots of time iwth my fam and give myself a big mental break from the online world haha..so I hope you guys enjoy this draft I have, someone requested this like bak on october but I can't find the request so if it was you LMK <3 pairing ⸺ Satoru Gojo x reader concept ⸺ You are Nanami's younger sister, because of that, the insufferably annoying and constantly present-Satoru Gojo-has always been a constant in your life. content ⸺ just some coming of age fluff, childhood crush, soulmates fr, don't forget gojo is insufferable, ur a bit insufferable too but ily, lmk if anyone wants a prt2, mt fuji reference bc I'm planning a Japan trip rn, reader uses female pronouns

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Satoru Gojo had always found himself intrigued by you. Being Nanami’s younger sister—only by a year, but a fact Gojo never let go—meant you were often around during their shared days at Jujutsu High. 

It had been impossible not to notice you, with your sharp wit and the way you matched Nanami’s sternness with a warmth and energy he seemed to lack.

Back then, Gojo’s fascination with you manifested in childish antics: hiding your books just to watch you search for them in exasperation, ruffling your hair as he towered over you with a cocky grin, and smirking when you called him an idiot. 

He relished every moment he could pull your attention from your studies or your brother, craving the fiery glint in your eyes when you were annoyed with him. 

Unlike the rest of the people in Gojo’s life, you weren’t part of Jujutsu society.

You couldn’t see curses, didn’t wield cursed energy, and, for the most part, seemed blissfully unaware of the world that surrounded your brother and his friends as you pursued your studies. 

Nanami had always insisted on keeping you far from it, which was just another thing Gojo couldn’t help but admire. 

You were grounded in a way the rest of them weren’t, so wonderfully normal amidst their chaos.

And you had this way of looking at him—not like the strongest sorcerer, not like the next great hope of Jujutsu society—but just like a guy who annoyed the hell out of you.

At first, it felt harmless. You were Nanami’s younger sister. Off-limits. Untouchable. The unspoken one Nanami had pulled from the very beginning. 

“Don’t even think about it, Gojo,” he’d once joked, though the steel in his voice had been unmistakable. That line, so clearly drawn by your older brother, was one Gojo thought he could respect.

However…Gojo wasn’t exactly known for adhering to rules, and over time, what started as a playful crush transformed into something far more real.

—

Gojo had really noticed the shift in how he saw you one lazy afternoon when you were both a little older, himself a second-year and Nanami now in first year. 

You’d stopped by Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High to drop off lunch for Nanami, a routine occurrence Gojo had witnessed more times than he could count.

And yet, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, that day felt… different.

He spotted you from across the courtyard, standing near the steps with a neatly folded paper bag in hand. The sun hit you just right, its golden rays catching in your hair and making it shimmer. 

Gojo found himself frozen mid-step, watching as you leaned toward Nanami, laughing at something he’d said.

He felt his chest tighten, his usual cocky grin faltering as something entirely unfamiliar bubbled up inside him.

He’d seen you countless times before—bickering with Nanami, reading quietly under a tree, rolling your eyes when he teased you. But this was the first time he’d truly seen you, and it shook him more than he cared to admit.

Gojo brushed it off with his usual bravado. It’s nothing, he told himself. Just a fluke. A trick of the light. I’m Satoru freakin’ Gojo. I don’t get fazed by stuff like..like girls.

But the image of you standing there, radiant and laughing, stuck with him.

Later that day, Nanami caught him staring off into space, absently twirling a pen between his fingers.

“You’ve got that dumb look on your face again,” Nanami deadpanned, his voice cutting through the comfortable silence of the common room.

Gojo blinked, jolting out of his thoughts. “Huh? Dumb? I don’t do dumb looks,” he shot back, feigning nonchalance as he leaned back in his chair.

Nanami raised a brow, unimpressed. “Right…” He said, but didn’t press forward.

Gojo leaned back further in his chair, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to his dilemma. 

He’d never tell Nanami the truth—that he’d been so distracted by you. 

Because even though he’d brushed it off earlier, Satoru Gojo knew better. That moment in the courtyard wasn’t nothing. It was the beginning of a realization he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

—

By the time you and Gojo were in your late teens you had both become insufferable in your own ways. 

You–who was constantly studying and reading and cramming your head full of anything instead of living your life. And Gojo–whose ego was the size of Mt. Fuji and spoke 100 kilometres an hour. 

This specific night, Nanami had reluctantly invited Gojo over for dinner at your family’s house after the persistent pestering of his taller, louder classmate. 

Gojo, being Gojo, had made himself right at home, lounging on your family’s couch as if he owned the place. Your parents were out for the evening, and Nanami had resigned himself to the kitchen, grumbling about Gojo’s ability to eat an ungodly amount of food.

Dinner wasn’t ready yet, which left you and Gojo alone in the dining room as Nanami busied himself in the kitchen, muttering under his breath about Gojo’s bottomless appetite.

You’d been sitting at the dining table, flipping through a thick textbook, completely ignoring Gojo’s antics. Or at least, you had been, until Gojo sauntered over, leaned against the back of your chair, tipping it slightly, forcing you to glance up.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that,” he teased, his signature smirk firmly in place.

“Do you ever not talk?” You replied, exasperation lacing your tone as you tilted your head to glare up at him.

“Rarely,” he shot back, before letting the chair fall back into place and taking a seat beside you at the table. “You’re really gonna spend the whole evening buried in those books?” He drawled, his voice a mix of amusement and boredom.

You didn’t bother looking up. “Not everyone has the luxury of being naturally insufferable and talented like you, Gojo.”

“Aw, you think I’m talented?” His grin was audible in his voice.

You finally lifted your gaze, levelling him with the flattest look you could muster. “Not what I said.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his chin propped up on one hand. The orange sunlight streaming through the window caught in his hair, making it gleam like spun silver. “Come on, y/n, live a little. You’re always so serious.”

“Not everyone can afford to ‘live a little,’” you muttered, your tone softer than before.

Gojo’s grin faltered, just for a heartbeat, before returning with renewed mischief. “Then it’s my civic duty to help you loosen up.”

Before you could stop him, he reached across the table and flicked the corner of your notebook. It slid a few inches down the table out of your reach, the pages fluttering slightly.

“Gojo,” you snapped, sitting up straighter.

“What?” His innocent tone was as fake as the wide-eyed look he gave you. “I’m just trying to help.”

You leaned over to grab the notebook, but Gojo was quicker. He snatched it up and held it above his head, just out of reach.

“Satoru,” you hissed, standing now, your chair scraping loudly against the floor.

He smirked, leaning back in his chair as he dangled the notebook higher. “What’s the magic word?”

“I’m not playing this game with you.”

You stepped closer, your hand reaching for the notebook, but Gojo shifted at the last second. In one smooth motion, he stood, towering over you with that infuriating smirk still plastered across his face.

“Wow, so short,” he teased, looking down at you with mock pity.

“I hate you,” you said, glaring up at him.

“Liar,” he shot back, his grin widening.

The room felt smaller now, the air warmer. You tried not to notice how close he was, how his presence seemed to fill every corner of the space.

“Just give it back,” you said, your voice quieter this time.

Gojo tilted his head, considering your request, but made no move to comply. 

Instead, he bent down slightly, just enough that your faces were almost level. His free hand braced against the edge of the table beside you, caging you in without even touching you.

“You really want it?” He asked, his tone low, teasing.

The words made your pulse quicken, though you’d never admit it. You reached for the notebook again, but he didn’t budge, his grin softening into something more unreadable.

And then you noticed it—his breath, warm and feather-light against your cheek. You were close enough to feel his breath.

The realization hit you all at once. Your skin burned where his breath lingered, and the heat crawled upward, spreading across your face and down your neck.

“Gojo,” you said, but it came out quieter than you intended, almost a whisper.

“What?” He murmured, his voice matching your softness now.

You didn’t answer, your mind too preoccupied with the way his gaze lingered on you, no longer playful but intense, searching.

His grin returned, but it was softer this time, almost shy. “You’re blushing, y/n,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your gaze darting away as if the floor could save you from the warmth blooming across your face. 

“No, I’m not,” you mumbled, despite the obvious pink hue radiating from your cheeks.

Gojo chuckled, a low, quiet sound that only made your blush deepen. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

You felt your heart do a little flip and you spun around, turning your back to him and crossing your arms over your chest.

“No I’m not–You–” You said shortly, trying to make yourself seem more annoyed than flustered.

“What?” He drawled, his tone all lazy amusement. 

“I’m just making an observation.” His grin was practically audible as he tilted his head. “I mean, look at you. Bright red. Are you sure you’re not coming down with something? Or is it just me?”

You spun around so fast you almost knocked into him, your hands flying up to shove at his chest, but he barely budged. “You’re such a—”

“Careful now,” he interrupted, catching your wrists with ease. His grip was light but firm, his thumbs brushing over your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Wouldn’t want you to say something you can’t take back.”

Your glare faltered under his steady gaze, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking away. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” he shot back smoothly, a smirk curling his lips. “It’s almost like you enjoy my company.”

“Well I don’t,” you snapped. “I’m not the one who invited you for dinner Gojo.” 

Gojo’s smirk widened, but he finally released your wrists, stepping back just enough to give you space—though not nearly enough to escape the heat of his presence.

“Hm, ya’know–you’re right,” he spoke slowly, his tone dripping with mock innocence as he turned toward the kitchen, hands sliding casually into his pockets. “I’ll try not to charm ya too much during dinner.”

You stood frozen, your cheeks still blazing and your heart racing as his footsteps faded. With a frustrated huff, you followed, vowing silently not to let him get under your skin again.

—

By the time you were in your early twenties, you had quietly come to terms with your crush on Satoru Gojo.

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint why you liked him. Gojo had been a constant presence in your life since your young teenage years, and despite his insufferable arrogance and larger-than-life personality, there was a charm about him you couldn’t deny. 

He teased you relentlessly, always flashing that blinding smile that made your heart skip a beat.

But it wasn’t just the teasing or the jokes. It was the way he treated you differently, always going out of his way to check on you, lingering just a little longer than necessary whenever you were around.

Still, you convinced yourself it didn’t mean anything. Gojo was like that with everyone—or so you told yourself…It was safer that way.

That afternoon, you sat across from Utahime at your favourite coffee shop in the neighbourhood near the office you worked at, absently stirring your drink as she rattled on about her recent frustrations at work.

You tried to focus—nodding at all the right times, but your mind kept drifting.

“Are you even listening to me?” Utahime asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Of course I am,” you lied, forcing a smile.

“Uh-huh.” She sipped her coffee, then leaned back with a sigh. “You’ve been spacey lately. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you said too quickly, heat creeping up your neck. “Just tired, I guess.”

She gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further.

The bell above the café door chimed, and you glanced up instinctively—only to immediately wish you hadn’t.

There he was.

Gojo Satoru strolled in like he owned the place, his sunglasses pushed up into his snow-white hair and his hands stuffed casually into his coat pockets. He scanned the room, and the moment his eyes landed on you, his face lit up with a grin that sent your heart racing.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, sinking lower in your seat.

Utahime’s gaze flicked between you and Gojo, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, this should be fun.”

“Don’t you start,” you warned.

Before she could respond, Gojo was already making his way toward your table, exuding his usual overconfidence.

“Ladies,” he greeted, pulling out the chair next to you without waiting for an invitation. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Gojo,” Utahime said dryly, her tone laced with disdain that only seemed to amuse him.

“Utahime,” he replied, his grin widening.

He turned his attention to you, his expression softening slightly. “And you. Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I could say the same to you,” you shot back, doing your best to sound indifferent despite the way your pulse quickened under his gaze.

“Touché,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “But I’d argue that seeing you is much more important than work.”

Utahime snorted, and you felt your cheeks heat up. “Does that line actually work on people?” Utahime asked, sounding as unimpressed as ever.

Gojo shrugged, clearly unbothered. “Guess it depends on the person.”

The conversation moved on—or rather, Utahime and Gojo bickered while you quietly sipped your drink, pretending not to notice the way Gojo kept stealing glances at you.

Then, out of nowhere, he said it.

“So,” Gojo began, his tone deceptively casual as he put one hand on the back of your chair, causing it to tilt back a bit, “what are you doing tonight?”

You froze, your mind racing as your eyes left their place on your coffee and found his. “Why?”

“Because I want to take you out,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Dinner. Just the two of us.”

Your jaw nearly hit the table. Surely, you’d misheard him.

Utahime, on the other hand, choked on her coffee.

“Excuse me?” You managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You heard me,” Gojo said, his grin softening into something almost... hopeful. “What do you say?”

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. You’d spent years convincing yourself that Gojo didn’t see you that way—that his teasing was just his personality, nothing more. But now, staring into those piercing blue eyes, you couldn’t ignore the sincerity in his expression.

Before you could answer, Utahime broke the silence. “Oh my god,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What?” You asked, still reeling.

“I can’t do this…this has been obvious to everyone but you,” she said, looking at you like you’d grown a second head. 

“He’s been obsessed with you for years, and you’re just now realizing it?”

Your face turned scarlet as you stammered, “That’s—that’s not true.”

Gojo, to his credit, looked thoroughly amused. “See? I knew I liked you for a reason, Utahime. It is totally 100% true.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” she said, waving him off before standing up and leaving some cash beside her empty mug. “I’m leaving before this gets any worse. Good luck, Gojo—you’ll need it.”

“Thanks,” he called after her, clearly enjoying himself.

Once Utahime was gone, you turned back to Gojo, your mind still spinning. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked, his tone unusually serious.

You searched his face for any sign of mischief, but there was none. Just that same unwavering confidence and something else—something softer, almost vulnerable.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “One dinner.”

Gojo’s grin returned full force, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t joking.

[bowsnstrings]

Diamond Boy (DTM)!

Onyankopon x Black Coded Character✌️🏾

Summary: After realizing that she has feelings for her handsome plug, Milana decides to give in to her rapidly growing crush for him, but what happens when things get a bit too intimate too fast?

Warning MDNI!: First date fluff mostly! Mentions of thigh riding, Praise and Dirty Talk, Mentions of smoking weed, Mentions of food, Original character with original descriptions.

Masterlist:🍃

Word Count: 6.8k

First kisses were supposed to be awkward, a little disappointing, and definitely nerve wracking. Too much tongue, or not enough passion, at least something that you could go and tell your friends about so you don’t sound like you’re already falling for a person you’ve only kissed. At least a little funny cringey moment to keep it lighthearted and easy, nothing like the kiss Milana and Ony shared.

It started so sweet, his lips pressing so softly over hers that she questioned if this was actually happening. Her first kiss, clutching the most gorgeous flowers she’d ever received, holding onto an even more beautiful boy. Her hand, shaky with anxiousness, raised to rest over the side of his face, thumb sliding over his cheek to feel his warm skin and ground her enough to savor every second.

Something about that made everything change in an instant, Ony pressing forward with determined movements, practiced ease getting the best of her. He easily took the lead, capturing her again and again, using a hand on her chin to help her keep pace with him. Her other hand held onto his bicep, feeling like she was going to topple over if they continued, neither of them thinking about anything else in the moment besides the electric feeling that came when they connected.

Moving in sync to deepen it further, until they pulled apart with nasty smack, both taking large breaths to cool down. It seemed like Ony couldn’t get enough though, giving her two quick pecks to her pursed lips, her eyes dreamy and looked like they were swirling with hearts.

“Fuck.” He groaned, purring low right in her face, biting down on his lip to contain himself from doing too much in public. His eyes scanned around to make sure no one was looking, lazily combing the area until they landed back on hers, another smile on his face that made her feel a lot lighter. “You be getting niggas caught up, huh?”

Her face scrunched up, smacking her lips as Ony laughed, a hand coming to cover up his smile as Milana pushed him away. “No.” She rolled her eyes at him, joining in on his sniggering, not being able to hold back her joy for long. “I don’t even date.” The admission wasn’t as bitter as she thought it would be, just a shrug off that she wasn’t so concerned about.

“This is a date, Ma. What ‘you think I’ve been trying to do all day?” He wiggled his brows at her suggestively, standing up to get out of his crouched position, moving back to sit and actually start eating.

“What? This is not a date. You have to ask a girl first, Ony.” She exclaimed as he dropped down, not knowing if he was eyeing her or his ribeye in hunger. “Besides, how do you know I wanna go on a date?” Deciding it was better to join him instead of staring, she laid her flowers down to pick up her silverware with a teasing remark.

He couldn’t even hide his happiness at her burst of confidence, chuckling at the way her lips twisted to hide her smile, determined to hold her face steady. That’s alright, he knew exactly what to say to make her crack. “Mama, with the way you kiss we're for sure going on a date.”

Oh Ony was good alright, that low drawn out humm while thinking of the memory was a nice added touch, her legs clamping shut as soon as the deep sound left him. She had to admit, he had game, but she wasn’t going to just let him have all the fun. “Still didn’t hear you ask me…” Milana sighed, playing up her uninterested look by sitting back, mimicking his nonchalant face that he puts on.

His eyes lit up in recognition, laughing at the way she bunched her eyebrows together like he did when he was annoyed. Damn, was he really that readable? She must’ve done her homework, seen him more than he thought she had. As flattering as it was, he still wasn’t going to let her win, licking over his bottom lip to bring in her focus as he dropped his voice to really play up his words.

“Please, Milana?”

That definitely did it, her hands jerking at his sultry plea, like he was begging to kiss her again. Fork accidentally clashing onto her plate noisily, face flushed in surprise, trying to collect herself under his steamy gaze. She realized that he was waiting on a response, actually asking in a way she’d never expect in a million years. “Okay…” Agreeing blindly, knowing that if he ever wanted her to do something, all he’d have to do was say is please.

“Tomorrow, it’s settled.”

“Ony!” She should’ve definitely seen that one coming, and yet she still dropped her mouth in shock, flowers nearly bumped off the table if it weren’t for her hands grabbing them as quickly as they did. “Are-you can’t be serious. So soon?”

He nodded enthusiastically, with almost childlike wonder like they were elementary crushes getting to sit together for the first time. “The only day it can happen is tomorrow. Promise if you go you’ll have fun.” With the way he said it, she definitely believed him, and why not throw caution to the wind. So far when she did it got her some action, no harm in that. So, she said yes, twirling a petal around her finger as she felt her flowers, smiling across from him as they talked about any and everything. They sat there for the longest breakfast in the world, getting to know each other like they were old friends meeting again. Laughing at their similarities, sharing their values, and trying to get Ony to spill any clues about their first date.

He wouldn’t budge at all, instead redirecting her with jokes and funny stories as they ate, showing such a rare side of him not a lot of people saw. It’s been such a long time since he felt like he could let loose around a girl, not having to put up a tough ass act, afraid that if he showed even a bit of vulnerability the fantasy of a relationship would just crumble. Provide, protect, and don’t be a pussy, the only things he was told about women really.

For once, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t always have to be so hard all the time. That Ony could take off that mask he wears, and not have to hold back from expressing himself because she was doing the same for him. He could see it, the way she was trying to be vulnerable like she couldn’t help but wear her heart on her sleeve, and all he wanted was to be the one to keep it safe for her.

Perhaps, that’s why he already couldn’t keep his hands off of her, a calloused palm sliding down her arm being cautious and gentle. Walking hand in hand underneath a lovely orange sun, the blue sky pushing wind to blow her hair around and make her look so pretty that he didn’t want to drop her back off. Clinging onto her hand as they made it to Milana’s front door again, knowing that the waiting was going to eat him alive.

“I had a good time.” She admitted, her shy attitude making it that much harder to go, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles to commit the feeling to memory. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Hopeful excitement shining in her eyes as they looked up at him, his head falling down to lean in closer, eclipsing her view of everything besides him.

“Six o’clock, tomorrow. Give me until then, Mama.” He murmured to her, pressing a long lasting kiss to her lips, pulling her in by sliding his hand around her back. Letting out a squeal and scrambling hands to hold onto him, she made sure not to stumble over in her sandals from trying to get to him so fast, head spinning at the way he was able to take the reins like that.

Ony willed himself away from her, drawing her in a calming hug that let her rest into him for just a second longer before he started walking back to his car. Calling out a goodbye after him, voice breathless with a meek wave. Making him turn one last time to send her a coy wink as he ducked into the front seat, leaving her standing on her doorstep like she was in a dream.

The rest of the day moved as slowly as she did, barely wanting to do anything else besides write and stare at the lilies now sitting in her nightstand vase. Oh God, would it be bad if she told him she missed him while he was gone? Too much and too soon, right? Definitely too clingy already, but a part of her was just crushing too hard right now. Kicking her feet up while she laid in bed, journal filled with curly cursive words, gushing over him like she was talking to her best friend.

All her life she could only imagine what this would feel like, and now she was experiencing it firsthand. That warm bubbly feeling of romance that she'd been begging for, and the thrill of it all was just too exhilarating. Ony was suave, confident, so effortlessly in control of everything he did, being with him felt like being able to let go. Release all her worry and stress, and it was scary to her that he could throw her into a total state of compliance, maybe even scarier was the fact that she liked being able to be the docile and sweet one while he handled everything.

He paid for their breakfast like it was his job, didn't even let her see the check, let alone touch it. Milana had a feeling that he was always generous, that he had a good heart underneath all that intimidation. Maybe, he just showed it through gestures, his actions definitely grand, making her feel spoiled already. She thought about it all as she hugged onto Oreo, trying to receive a bit more affection, counting down the hours until the arms she’d be in wouldn't have fur or paws.

The entire day since Milana woke up, she'd been getting ready for their night out. Practically glued to her vanity as she tweezed her brows, applied a mud mask, watching housewives as she did her makeup. Her skin rubbed down in marshmallow body cream, spraying her favorite perfume as she watched herself in the mirror, rollers giving her a slight headache as she tried not to be so nervous.

Taking the time out to pamper herself was nice, it relaxed her down, the hour long bath was helpful getting her in the right headspace, but she just wanted to see him already. He might've said something nice or funny to get her to smile instead of worrying, or calm her nerves enough to stop freaking out inside.

She stood in the mirror for nearly an hour, trying on everything in her closet that would be a possibility for any date. Skirts, heels, shorts, tops, but none of them felt right until the last outfit. Ony never told her what they'd be doing when they went out, so she only could hope that her long, tight brown dress with a crochet green bolero matched the occasion. She paired it with tan sandals in case they'd be close to the beach or had to do some walking, and her chunky vintage coach shoulder bag.

Milana wanted to impress him, look special and pretty, imagining she was a princess for the night as she slid in her twisted gold hoop earrings. By the time she was finished, it was getting into the late afternoon, trying to drink some honey chamomile tea and have some fruit to quell her nerves. Hearing that knock at the door almost spooked her, a rush of anxiousness hitting her all at once as she stopped to look at herself one more time.

Fluffing her hair and finding an extra roller she accidentally left in, she quickly straightened up and made sure nothing was in her teeth before pulling the door open. “Hi, Ony.” Milana smiled, trying to appear effortless and nonchalant until she saw the bouquet of flowers he held in his hands. Pretty pink and white roses, all blooming gracefully, wrapped in green paper for her to receive. He looked just as perfect as they did. Loose fitting jeans and a hoodie that made his arms look even bigger, a heavy gold chain glittering from underneath.

“Hey, Mama. These are for you.” He must've gotten a shave, his facial hair looking sharper, hair covered by a fitted baseball bat. His cologne almost engulfed her as he passed her the roses, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she breathed him in.

“Ony, you already got me flowers.” She still cooed happily as he gifted them to her, letting him inside all giddy and giggly.

“These are for our date, thought you might like ‘em when I saw the pink.” He remembered her saying that was her favorite color yesterday when they had breakfast, so he knew it'd only be right for her to have them.

“Aww, thank you. Let me get something to put them in.” He closed the door for her, eagerly entering to breathe her home in further, smiling at the good feeling he had being inside. The candles she lit had the perfect scent of vanilla, but nothing rivaled her perfume that was floating everywhere. He stopped for a moment, just taking it in as he stopped at a particular photo on the wall.

“You a writer?” He asked, pausing specifically at a picture he saw when he spent the night, one where she stood in her graduation gown, neck covered in medals and holding awards. She looked so cute when she was younger, glasses thicker and hair a bit shorter in curls pouring out of her decorated cap.

“I am I guess. Won a scholarship for it, but I think I should probably start writing more often.” She hummed out as she tried finding another vase for the new bunch of flowers. His gaze getting stuck on her as she bent over, noticing just how tight her dress was. He nearly swore out loud as her hips wiggled trying to pull it from the cabinet, her ass shaking lightly enough to trap him in a daze. Guess he’ll just have to adjust himself all night while he silently suffers.

“Is that what you do for work?” He tore his eyes away, feeling a bit hot as he tried distracting himself. Ony watched her straighten back up, filling the glass with water as she answered.

“Yeah, freelance. Pays the bills and what not.” She was fixing up the petals of her roses, placing them down on the table as he approached her. Reaching into his hoodie pocket, he pulled out something once she turned around, letting her eyes zero in on it before explaining.

“Picked up a treat for us,” His palm opened to show her a sandwich bag full of nugs, shifting around in there, hypnotizing her into watching it. The smell of potent greenery filled the air as soon as he opened it, letting her get a whiff and laughing when she scrunched her face at the smell of straight weed. “Named it ‘Laid-back ‘Lana’.” She couldn’t contain the giggle that bubbled up her throat at the name, her hand trying to cover her mouth at his playfulness.

“Why’d you name it that?” Milana asked, their light and playful banter easing away any thoughts from earlier. This is definitely what she missed, just being around him, basking in the way he joked around.

“‘Cause this shit will have you laid back on that ass the same way you had me on your couch.” Ony chuckled as he watched her burst into a fit of laughter, the most relaxed she’d ever been around him, and the atmosphere was only getting less and less tense. “Here, you got papers?” He asked, handing the bag for her to inspect some more.

“I don’t know how to roll my own…” Her hands fumbled slightly as Milana tried not to sound pathetic, but at twenty-two she should probably know how to roll her own blunt. Or change a tire, or file taxes; maybe she should start with those first.

“Don’t sweat it, Ma. I got backwoods, but you’ve probably never smoked with ‘em before. I got some good ass flavors though.” Obviously coming prepared, he pulled out a packet of the cigar leaves, the purple package reflective under the light as she read the words, ‘Honey Bourbon’, written all over it. “We got to head out to make it before it gets hella dark, so we’ll smoke on the way.”

After grabbing everything and locking up they left to head out, Ony’s hand falling to her back as he went behind her. The walk to his car was dizzying, feeling so stiff with the touch of a man on her. He lead her without having to say a word, and she almost felt like she could float away if she let herself go a bit more, scared of what would happen if she did. Sliding into his car to drive wherever they were supposed to be going, just taking the time to watch Ony as he moved.

Given his occupation, it was no wonder how experienced he was with handling the eighth he was carrying. Grinding it down easily, dusting it gradually into the leaf, thick fingers squeezing and rolling it between each other. Licking it off with a smooth glide of the tongue, their eyes meeting as he did, making her flush and look away. By the time she looked back he was done, the fat blunt sitting between his lips as he lit it, puffing out smoke that danced in the air, wrapping around their heads in grey streaks.

He leaned his head back, letting it glide out then sucking it back in to blow a ghost, shifting slightly to look at her as he passed it. She took it, knowing it'd at least ease her up some more, generously taking it down her lungs until she pulled back coughing after her uncoordinated breath. “Don't smoke much?” Ony laughed at how her eyes narrowed, he knew that already, just was teasing.

“I’ve never had any this strong.” Milana admitted, taking a much smaller puff before handing it back. The effects hitting her almost immediately, eyes going lax and lips pressing together as she felt a rush of euphoria. Ony had to admire how sexy she looked like that, her lashes hanging lower in a sensual cateye. Driving was his only distraction, trying not to turn and glance at her every five seconds, but he was failing that miserably. She wasn't doing much better, the high making it just that more obvious so she faced the window instead, watching the beach waves in his music filled car driving down the highway. Thirty minutes of the most torturous drive for either of them, only wanting to jump each other's bones and forget the formalities.

They were looking forward to this though, especially with the way Ony was so proud of himself once he saw her reaction. Pulling in she could see all the bright shining lights, hues of blue, red, and yellow everywhere in the cartoonish displays. The rides flashing at her as people screamed with joy in every direction, and soon as she stepped out of the car with his help, she could smell popcorn and funnel cake in the air. “The fair?” Her face was just lit up, and it had him pausing as he took it all in. That face was going to be the end of him, because he knew already that he'd go to the ends of the Earth just to see her look at him like that.

“Today’s the last day it’s in town. Knew I had to take you.” Ony took her by the hand as they walked around, getting through the entrance to take in every exciting sight and decide what they wanted to do first. He left it in her hands, indifferent to it all as he just wanted to let her have all the fun she wanted, happily trailing a step behind as she pulled him by the hand. Milana turned to look at him every step of the way, scanning his face to see if anything caught his eye.

They stopped at the ticket counter first, Ony reaching into his pocket for a thick wad of cash inside, neatly folded bills that he grabbed and pulled apart. Counting each one silently in her head, she tried to ignore the mixed feeling of guilt and gratitude, but that was easy given how desirable he looked while being so gracious. She briefly wondered if she should be scared about them getting robbed, but when she took into account how strong he looked, there wasn't too much to be afraid of. His eyes lazy as he hid the rest in his pocket, passing the woman the cash as he asked her, “Where you want to go first, Mama?”

“I don't know… I think I want to do some games, but I’m scared we won’t win.” Milana looked down at the string of red tickets the woman gave her, all bunched together in her hands. “Maybe this one?” She stopped at the booth right in front of them, a fish pond game where they'd at least get a prize judging by how easy it looked. Even the little kids around it were doing well, but Ony only gave a noncommittal hum as he continued looking around, his arm coming to wrap around her shoulders from behind, stepping so close that her stomach clenched in anticipation.

“What about that one?” He turned them to face a little further down, another game table there with giant prizes hanging all at the top. She let him maneuver them towards it, a little unsure once they got closer. It was a BB gun challenge, having to shoot down the targets from a far distance away.

“Are you sure?” Milana looked up at him, holding onto their tickets skeptically. She didn't want to be wasteful, Ony already paid a bunch of money for them to be able to get inside and use the tokens for rides and such. Ultimately, it didn't matter though, not with the way he was seemingly so flippant about it, taking some from her hands to pass to the worker there waiting on them.

“Don’t sweat it, Ma. Have some faith in me.” He was confident, if not a little cocky as he picked up the rifle, resting it in his hands as he focused his sights on aiming it correctly. His feet shoulder with apart, thick finger on the trigger with one eye closed, not moving or even taking a breath.

*bang*

Maybe it was how high she was, but the first shot came out of nowhere, making her jump when she heard the pellet make contact with the painted wood, hitting the small red dot in the middle.

*bang*

*bang*

The last two were quicker, but still made her eyes widen in awe at how fast he’d done that, moving one by one down the line until all three had holes in the center. She didn’t even think a minute had passed by before he was done, sliding the gun down and handing it back to the guy at the stand.

“What did we win?” Ony asked, turning to Milana as the man pointed out the stuffed animals hanging at the top of the booth, giant, almost as tall as her, and all so pretty. Immediately, she narrowed in on a big brown bear, with dark fur and sparkly chestnut eyes. She pointed meekly to it, arms stretched open to let the cuddly animal fall into them as it was passed to her. “You like it?”

Nodding, all smiley as her nails raked through its fur, she couldn’t express how grateful she was, carrying it around as they went down the rows of attractions. Playing games, sharing the biggest plate of funnel cake she’d ever seen, and laughing when Ony got powdered sugar all over his nose, willingly letting her dust it off with her soft hands. He ended up carrying her bear as they made their way to their last ride, the Ferris wheel, helping her step up into the seat as it rocked slightly back and forth.

“Is this safe?” Milana’s eyebrow raised slightly as she sat down, looking around at all the other swinging chairs. It was his idea to go after he told her he’s never been on one before, but now it looked a bit too scary for her.

“Ain’t nothing gonna happen.” He was gruff about it, setting up her bear in the seat so it wouldn’t fall before sliding in the middle, throwing an arm on the back of her chair to wrap around her shoulders. As soon as their door closed the employee pulled the lever to let the ride start, her breath hitching in her chest as it moved mechanically.

“Are you just not afraid of anything?” She asked, not knowing if it was rhetorical or not as the wheel began turning, slowly bringing them higher and higher. She could only stare down at her toes as they got further from the ground.

“What’s there to be afraid of?” Playfully, he rocked her by her shoulders to pull her away from fearfully looking at the floor. Getting her attention to focus on him instead, he figured getting her talking would get her to stop gripping the railing with white knuckles.

“Well for starters, how high up we are.” Her deadpan expression made him chuckle, laying back cool as could be once the ride stopped them at the very top, the world looking much prettier when you could see all the glowing lights in the distance.

“How can I be scared right now?” Ony truly was content, a man who had nothing to fear, only things to desire. Not for more things like money or a new car, he already had all that. He’s craving for something real, someone to share his life with, even someone who he could lean on too.

“I’m always scared,” Her voice was shaky as she tried to close her eyes and relax, vulnerable as she poured her heart out, getting it off her chest. “I think it’s just easier when you’re around though.” Their hands interlocking, his squeezing hers reassuringly at her admission. Just sitting for a second to look at the city from so high up, the breeze flying in their faces making her nose cold.

“Y’don’t have to be scared. I’ll be here, no matter what.” How could he not, stuck in a trance from her beautiful face. Bouncing between her round eyes, fluttering lashes covering the brown, then sliding to her cute button nose, and full pink lips. Committing each detail to memory, counting each beauty mark as her hair blew back in the wind.

“No matter what?” He nodded with determination, no empty promise in sight when they were at the top of the Ferris wheel, just the two of them together and their unwavering bond. “Just… promise me. Promise that you’ll tell me if it’s too much. If I’m too much.” She asked him, fear lacing her tone, afraid to be the one to ruin this for herself, to ruin them already. He didn’t give her the chance to allow the thought to take over, ducking his face down as he slid closer.

“You’ll never be too much. Just right to me.” He whispered, just to her, leaning over to kiss her, cupping the side of her face to keep them close as he groaned from her eagerness to kiss him back. This is what he’d been missing, his mouth moving with hers in sync, allowing those walls to come crumbling down. Hungry for it, craving the affection that being with one another provided, so caught up in their intimate moment to notice that the ride was descending until they were almost to the bottom.

Milana pulled away first, blinking up at him with her shy little smile as Ony’s fingers danced across her cheek, allowing him to lean down and press one last kiss to her lips before they stepped off. Holding each other as they walked back to his car, her head resting on his shoulder the entire way as he led them back to his car, both unable to stop laughing from how much fun they had just being together the entire weekend. She couldn’t even stare at anything else besides him the entire way, going down the highway at night but Ony still managed to shine brighter than the moon beaming down at them. His handsomeness was distracting enough, but getting to know him personally, in a way that most people don’t, was the icing on the cake in her eyes.

They just couldn’t let each other go, she was practically tripping over her feet trying to pull him by his heavy arm. Ony trailing behind, enjoying her more assertive side as she got him to come into her apartment rather easily. To be honest, she could’ve asked him anything and he would’ve done it in a heartbeat right now, too happy making this night perfect for her. The lights dim as they flopped down onto her couch, still reeling from all the excitement. “I can’t believe we just went on a date.” She sighed happily, tossing off her sandals as she faced him, seeing how he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her.

“Really? Thought it was only a matter of time.” He didn’t like feeling far away from her, hand itching to reach out, his willpower getting lower and lower. Grabbing her by the waist, an abundance of giggles rained out as she wiggled in his arms until he settled her down on his leg again, just like he’d done at the club.

They took a moment to take each other in, Milana shifting to sling her other leg over his body, unintentionally sitting flush on his thigh, but too wrapped up in how good it felt being close to him to notice. Shifting up to lean in, he cupped the side of her face, tender as he pulled her in to kiss her, a quick peck that had her slowly melting into him. Her hips moving to get closer until an unfamiliar feeling shot through her, making her go stiff in his hands. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t know at first, mind still trying to register the arousal that she felt pooling deep within, hands falling onto his shoulders as she unsurely ground down again. Call it virgin curiosity, but she couldn’t stop exploring after her first taste of pleasure. Her head spinning with confusing sensations, the heaviness of passion weighing her down to roll back and forth on his thigh another time until her eyes shifted up and saw his expression. Blank with disbelief, mouth agape as he watched her move, kick starting her into stopping her movement to explain herself.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry-I don’t-” Ony snatched her up in an instant, grabbing her by the hips to pull her into riding his thigh again. She never expected that, hands staying up in the air out of pure shock before he pulled them down, urging her to touch him back. Milana did so as she whimpered, trying to keep up with the way he was moving her.

“I tried.” He grunted, his body working with fervor as he helped her grind, eyes shut tight as he felt himself quickly hardening, his thigh tensing underneath her. “I really fucking tried, but I need you.” Big and burly arms locked tightly around her as he breathed her in, mind going fuzzy as he tuned out entirely, letting his actions speak for him. Adrenaline was pumping through them, hands gripping at each other, desperate to touch, feel, see everything they could. Everywhere her fingers grazed left him yearning for more, the realization that he’d been craving for this his entire life felt like cold water splashing over his heated skin. Too used to floating in and out of people’s lives to get the touch that he needed, the touch that only she seemed to provide, practically thriving after starving for it.

“You’re alright, Mama.” He reassured, hands sliding under her dress, Milana was spooked at first by the touch, but was relaxed down by his calming strokes. They moved so easily, bunching up her dress until it rose around her hips to give him more access to her, kisses trailed along her collarbone to keep her from retreating into her head.

He began moving upward, skimming her throat as his mind went blank, the only thing he could tangibly string together was her name over and over in his mind. Her hair, her voice, her scent, it made him feel dizzy just thinking about it, a burning feeling of greed taking over any rational thought. He needed her badly, running hot as he finally made it to her face, opening his eyes to meet hers as he pressed forward, taking her by surprise as he lowered her down slow into his lap, feeling her nearly bare skin meet his jeans.

Her mouth dropped open in the neediest moan he’d ever heard, long and whiney, eyes rolling to the back of her head as they closed. The expression was just too good, making his dick jump as he sat up, clutching her hips desperately. “Fuck, Milana.” He groaned out, slightly shifting to get her adjusted, quickly needing her to feel him too. “Don’t do that shit, Baby. Gonna stop my fucking heart.”

She couldn’t say anything, too busy trying to stop herself from shaking as Ony began moving her up and down his groin over his pants. Rocking her hips faster, steadier, with so much effort she almost thought they were actually having sex. The image made her knees try to close together, his hands shifting to grip under her thighs, forcing them open as he grunted curses in her ear.

Milana couldn’t stop herself from moving, like she was lit with fire for the first time, throwing her arms around Ony’s neck to clutch him closer. “Need me, Mama, don’t you?” Nodding and unable to hide small moans from escaping her, their lips met again, noisy and echoing around the room. She was so damp, Ony was starting to see her show up on his jeans, having to look away before he embarrassed himself in front of this girl.

“Fuck,” He cursed when her nails ran down the nape of his neck, his hips lifting off the couch to put force behind the thrusts he was giving her. Ony’s hands curving down to grip her ass, hissing as her clit caught perfectly over his bulge, pulling her all the way up, up, up, then back down until she felt like she was fraying at the seams. “Stay with me, Baby.” He urged, but her mind was too cloudy to sense that unfamiliar feeling at first, too busy asking the Lord to forgive her for praying to lose her virginity after a first date. Thoughts turning to mush before they could form and soon she found herself stuck in the feeling that she was going to burst.

Then her stomach wound tighter, eyes snapping open in panic as she felt a mix of emotions, wanting to go faster and run away from the feeling all at once. Tingles crawled up her body from her toes, moving with vigor to heighten the pressure as it all rushed to her head. Her hips trying to jump away from his, squealing as she tried to stop her impending orgasm before it made her lose control, hands pressing into his chest to push away.

“Gonna cum, Mama?” Calling Milana back as he forced her to sit flush down on him again. He was asking like he already knew that, and when she tried looking at him through teary eyes she was taken aback at the hungry glint in them. “Yeah, gonna make a fucking mess. Let that shit happen, ‘want you to soak my face after.”

Milana’s mouth dropped open, whining out as she clutched onto him, thrown headfirst into an orgasm she never expected. It felt like free falling right into his waiting arms, where he could bring her more pleasure than she ever thought possible, without even having to touch her. His kisses trailed from her jaw down her neck, toes curling and eyes watering in bliss as she tried to catch her breath. He let her settle slightly, then flipped them both over to lay her on the couch. Her head lying on the armrest as Milana looked at her ceiling, body sagging into the cushions while Ony took her legs and threw them over his shoulders.

“Damn, that was good, Baby. So fucking good. Gonna have you do that on my mouth then around me next, Mama.” He rambled out, planting long appreciative kisses over her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to her covered pussy. His head dipping down to press his lips right against her, surprised at how she shrieked and pushed herself up slightly to see him, eyebrow raising as he stopped to make sure she was alright. To be fair, she didn’t expect them to still keep going, not with how worn out she felt either.

“Uhh… Ony… think I should-probably should tell you some-something…” Her chest was still rising and falling rapidly, whole body thrown off kilter in a sensitive state that had her scrambling while trying to find her bearings. He nodded for her to continue, rubbing circles into her skin when he saw how she was still coming down into reality, thinking she was just a bit delicate in the moment. “I just never- that was my first time so-”

“What?” Ony practically threw himself off of her, legs falling off his body as he moved to sit across from her, a rush of indecipherable emotions written all over him. The sudden loss of touch made her feel a lot more hurt than he intended, but he was honestly so blindsided by her confession that he thought his heart stopped. “Are you saying that you're…” God, it all made sense now, why she was so nervous all the time, shying away from any hint of intimacy, why didn't he see it sooner? “Fuck, Milana.”

His head dropped into his hands, groaning out in an unmistakable tone of frustration as he sobered up, her stomach twisting in a not-so-pleasurable way after that. Once again, her big mouth strikes again, opening it just when things were going so well. Why did she have to stop him, why did that knawing feeling in the back of her mind have to tell her that they might've been moving too fast? Her face dropping with so much disappointment as she tried not to get weepy. “I’m sorry…” Voice tinged with pain as a hand rubbed at the corner of her eyes.

Ony didn't miss the way she sounded, head picking up to jump into action, pulling her back into him, tucked in his side. “Shit-No, Baby. I'm not upset with you. I'm mad at my damn self, should've known better than to be trying to push all up on you like that.” He explained, trying to blanket her with as much comfort as he could, hand a bit frantic as it moved up and down her back. “Fuck, shouldn’t have done that, it wasn't right. I just don't want to take advantage of you, Mama.”

His mind was rushed with guilt, feeling like he just pushed her too hard and definitely way too fast. A bad feeling erupting inside, thinking that he'd been too selfish in the moment, using his second head instead of the one resting on his shoulders. “Don't say that.” She mumbled, her sniffling getting quieter as she saw how upset he was. “I wanted to do that with you, I just didn't think you'd even like me.”

“What?” After all that he thought she'd at least realize he liked her little stubborn behind. “Of course I fucking like you. I don't take girls out and shit, did that ‘cause I want you to be mine.” He admitted it so truthfully, that it shocked her to the core, the revelation swaddling her in the tenderness of his words.

“Really?” Milana felt it, she really did this time. Her eyes were getting watery all over again as it came over her in waves, feeling just as good as his touch was.

“Yes, Milana. I really want you.” Ony felt a rush of relief, his body sagging down to lean against hers too, just needing to hold her for a while. They laid down together, arms wrapping around to hold each other with soothing light touches, side by side facing each other on her little sofa. Her hands sliding to cup his face as he buried his face in her neck, practically laying on top of him to make room, but it was the most comfortable she’d ever been. They would have a lot to talk about soon; her fears, his tough shell, their shared desires, but both were certain that together, it’d be alright.

Hello Everyone! Thank you for being so patient and for supporting my story! I can't believe Milana and Ony already had their first date! It only gets better from here for them, so keep tuning in to read! xoxo - Bow 🎀

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[bonelessghoul]

me and the devil

Pairing: frontman x f!reader Summary: when you decided to join the games, you had been so removed from the life you once knew, but when an old face turns out to be another player, it changes everything for you. Note: after getting out that little tidbit I posted prior, I finally have the guts to get this out there. Thought this would be a cute way to tie in how they may have known each other before the games :) hope you all enjoy!! wc: 4.1k

~~~

Some time ago

The sound of an ambulance and police car entering the hospital driveway could be heard beyond the sliding doors, causing your heard to perk up behind the computer you sat at. It had been a long day already so you couldn’t even hide the disappointment in your sagged shoulders when a patient had come in with two paramedics.

“Evening!” said the paramedic at the front of the stretcher.

Your tired eyes were already on the elderly man in the stretcher. His frail frame, oxygen mask, and the nasty cough rattling underneath it painted a picture all too familiar.

“Feels like this is the dozenth time I’ve seen you guys today.” you said jokingly, but also with some truth underneath of it.

As you took the report and triaged the patient, it gave you a small sense of relief knowing he could be admitted quickly due to condition. Amid the overwhelming crowds and lingering illness, you found solace in these fleeting victories—a squeeze of a hand, a reassurance that someone would be cared for. But deep down, you knew the cycle would start anew when you clocked in tomorrow.

The paramedics took him to the room and you leaned against the counter, writing down the patients vitals so you could put them into the computer once you sat down but then, the door opened again.

“Please, not another one.” you mumbled, tiredly turning to the sliding doors that let in a gust of cold air from the outside.

But for the first time that day, a smile found your lips when a familiar police officer entered the premises.

“I promise I’m not dragging in another patient,” said Officer In Ho, his wide grin softening the fatigue etched on your face.

“Shouldn’t you be keeping the streets safe, In Ho?” you teased, shuffling toward him in your light-blue scrubs. Gratefully, you took the coffee like a kid handed a toy.

The shine of his badge didn’t escape your notice, nor did how well he looked in his black uniform. Newly promoted, his pride was evident in the way he carried himself—a gleam in his eyes, a certain confidence in his stride.

“Ah, I already did that a couple of times today,” he replied with a playful scoff. “Now my job is to make sure the hospital is safe—and ensure there are no tired nurses lingering about.”

As you sipped the coffee, sweetened with an absurd amount of cream and sugar just the way you liked it, you glanced around the ambulance bay. Feigning innocence, you shrugged.

“I’d say you’d have to arrest me then, but since I’m the only one working right now, you’d have to answer to my boss.”

In Ho laughed but tilted his head with concern. “Again? I feel like you’re here every day.”

Rolling your eyes, you retreated behind the desk to finish charting before he could distract you any further.

“Well, you wouldn’t know if you didn’t stop by every day. Don’t they track your patrol car?” you asked, shifting the conversation.

He followed, leaning his arms on the counter above your computer. His grin remained, impossible to ignore.

“Yes, but after that incident a couple of weeks ago when your patient started a fight in the parking lot, I generously offered to swing by.”

Yawning, you leaned back in your chair, coffee in hand. “I’m going to start a fight in the parking lot soon. But there’s only an hour left. I’ll survive.”

In Ho raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll clear out of your warpath.”

Laughing, you waved a fist at him. “You brought me coffee. You’re spared for now, Officer In Ho.”

A laugh bubbled in your throat, causing you to sit up and wave your fist at him.

“You brought me coffee, you are spared from my warpath for now, Officer In Ho.”

Most shifts went like this—fifteen or twenty blissful minutes of his company while his partner kept an ear on the radio. For a brief moment, you forgot you were at work. It wasn’t always this easy, though. You were good at your job, often placed in challenging situations. It was, after all, how you had met him.

Your reminiscing was interrupted by the urgent wail of another ambulance siren. Downing the rest of your coffee, you moved around In Ho as if he weren’t there, throwing on latex gloves and a fresh mask. The paramedic’s voice rang out as the ambulance doors opened.

“CPR in progress!”

You sprang into action, guiding the stretcher to the nearest room. In Ho stood outside, watching as the hive of medical staff buzzed around you. His eyes lingered on you, a memory surfacing—the day you first met.

Back then, he was a rookie cop, shadowing his unit. They brought in a gunshot victim, In Ho’s hands pressing desperately on the wound. As the stretcher came through, your eyes met across the chaos. You had taken over, applying pressure while barking orders to the team.

Now, as you jumped off the chest compressions to don a gown, you glanced over your shoulder. In Ho’s gaze was locked on you. With a quick, discreet salute, you turned back to work, your smile hidden behind the mask.

You two had met when In Ho was a brand new cop and you, a brand new nurse, when his unit he was shadowing with brought in a gun shot victim. In Ho had his hand over the bleeding wound and as the patient was brought onto the stretcher, you two met each other eye to eye as you stood on the other side of the bed and started to hold pressure for him.

~

To no surprise, your shift ended later than expected. Fatigue weighed heavy on your limbs as you stepped out under the night sky. Dragging yourself toward the bus stop, a familiar voice called out.

“Y/N!”

You blinked, surprised to see In Ho standing by the sidewalk, dressed in casual clothes. His shift had clearly ended hours ago.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” you asked, brows furrowing.

In Ho smiled, a touch of nervousness in his posture as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I wasn’t sure if you got to finish your coffee earlier, so I thought I’d see if you’d like another drink.”

Despite your exhaustion, his offer made you smile. The thought of his presence had quickly become a comfort you didn’t want to imagine life without.

“Of course,” you said, watching his shoulders relax with relief.

Without a second thought, you took his hand, letting him lead you to a nearby bar. Together, you laughed and shared stories, the weight of the day momentarily forgotten.

But that’s all it ever was—and all it ever would be.

The coffee dates grew scarce, the nights picking you up from the hospital turned into you taking the bus, and both of you played a role in such sadness that filled its place. Your jobs were taxing but that was almost just an excuse to place on top of why he visited less and why you had taken up other assignments in the ER.

One night, you and a few of your coworkers, one of whom was a resident who was infatuated with you, went over to a local bar for soju and whatever apps you could order. It was a particularly difficult shift that warranted a drink, but when you walked in you were surprised to see In Ho with another woman.

The years of unspoken friendship, and maybe something more, shattered like glass within you. Little did you know, In Ho had felt the same when he watched the resident take your coat off for you.

In that moment though where you two made eye contact even across a crowded bar, you couldn’t help but smile a delicate and polite one. The color that had drained from his face faintly returned as he smiled back, nodding your way.

But it was the end of something you had both never had the guts to speak of out loud and that was torture in and of itself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present Day

“The first light is Red Light, Green Light.”

In a swarm of green tracksuits, you stood among the four hundred or so players that surrounded you, tucking your white shirt underneath as the heat started to beat down your neck and tied the jacket around your waist.

“It’s just a child’s game,” you told yourself, trying to push aside the unease curling in your stomach.

The unnerving atmosphere constructed around you was all tied in at the larger than life doll at the other end of the room, facing you with the eyes of something much more than it let on.

In front of you, a mother and her son bickered softly. Their interaction brought a fleeting smile to your face, but the weight of how they ended up here pressed heavy on your mind. Before you could dwell, a frantic voice broke through the murmurs.

“This is not just a game! If you lose, you die!”

The crowd rippled with uneasy laughter, shocked at the sudden turn of events. A man near the front waved his arms, shouting to be heard and you stood on your toes to get a better look.

“If they catch you moving, they’ll kill you! They shoot you from somewhere above!”

“We’re going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?” a woman asked mockingly.

You chuckled softly with her, but the player up ahead was unrelenting and you couldn’t fend off the way your nerves started to react to it.

“If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They shoot you from somewhere up above!”

While the crowd had laughed off his attempts, brushing it off and eager for the game to start, you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and tried to ignore him. But the pressure to keep your movements as strict as possible nipped at your mind.

“No matter what happens, don’t panic!”

But your heart started to race just a little faster when the time clock blinked on and your five minutes began. Just don’t get caught moving and you will be fine, you told yourself.

“Green light!” the childlike voice called.

Your legs moved before your mind did, ushering yourself forward and when the massive doll had said “Red Light!”, Player 456 had commanded the group to freeze.

You’d be hard pressed not to listen as the tension started creeping up your legs.

His commands were like clockwork and despite the path you wanted to forge for yourself, you found yourself following along. The stopping and going according to the doll who’s painted eyes stared through you was already nerve wracking as is and suddenly, you didn’t mind the directions by player 456.

“Freeze!”

“Cut it out, man. You’re freaking me out.” said player 390 who stood just a few feet ahead of you now.

The rounds were intermittently paced and you were becoming jumpy with every switch between red light and greed light. No one had been caught moving yet and your eyes moved as much as they could without your face moving a muscle to scan who surrounded you now.

But then, at the sound of a shrill scream of a woman up ahead, your eyes widened at the sight of a younger girl flailing her arms around to swat something away.

You held your breath as you waited to see what would happen to her, gasping when the gunshot rang through the arena and went right through her head.

Your soul had jumped out from your skin and you worried that such a slight jolt would put you in the same fate as the girl.

But even when you thought it would keep everyone still the way it did to you, one woman screamed only to be shot as well, and that’s when everyone started to run for their lives.

It took every fiber of your being to not move with every gunshot that rang out, rapidly firing so close to you that you could hear its trajectory in the air. It made your ears ring and you couldn’t quite here player 456 anymore but the echoes of his yelling were clear.

But your legs had begun to shake, and you hesitated before moving forward again.

When Player 456 ran to the front of the group though, his shoulder just passing yours, you didn’t dare waste another second and your legs sprung back into action. The player had been right all along and you wouldn’t dare question it now.

“Everyone get into a line! Get behind someone bigger than you. We have to move before time runs out!”

There was no time to be strategic about this, merging together with the nearest line and finding yourself behind a girl about your height. It didn’t seem like a bad decision until you watched her nearly double over in pain. She was clutching her stomach, and her other hand had desperately clung to the mother you saw earlier. Your blood ran cold, hesitant to keep your hold on this girl for fear she would ruin it all, but as the next green light had been called, you noticed why exactly she carried her belly.

“I got you!” you said to her with a firm reassurance, steadying your hands on her hips as you all skidded to a halt again.

A cry came from her and your heart sunk as the mother in front of her tried to calm her too.

Your eyes were burning onto the larger than life doll up ahead as the clock winded down, hoping you three hadn’t given yourselves away.

“Green light.”

“Let’s go!” player 456, waving everyone across.

With a surge of determination, you grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her forward. The red line loomed closer with each stride. Together, you crossed it, your arm wrapped around her to keep her upright. Relief flooded through you as the mother stumbled forward to meet her, checking her frantically.

You stepped back, your chest heaving as you untied the jacket from your waist and let it fall, the heat radiating off you in waves. The moment was short-lived.

A commotion behind the finish line made you turn. Player 456 was running back onto the field. Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you watched him race toward Player 444, who was still alive but bleeding heavily from his leg.

“What is he doing?” you muttered, clutching the jacket in your hands.

The doll called out, “Red light!” You flinched, certain he wouldn’t make it. But then Player 120 appeared at the other side of Player 444, helping him stand.

“Green light!”

Cheers erupted as the three crossed the line just before the timer hit zero. You moved toward them, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“Let me help!” you urged, dropping to your knees beside them.

You tied your jacket tightly around Player 444’s leg as a makeshift tourniquet, your hands trembling. But before you could take a breath, another shot rang out.

Something warm splattered across your face. Your body went cold, and your hands stilled as the weight of what had just happened sank in. You couldn’t bring yourself to look, your gaze locked on the blood-soaked fabric beneath your fingers.

“We did what we could,” Player 456 said shakily, lowering the man to the ground.

Player 120 helped you to your feet, her grip steady despite the devastation etched into her face. You slung your jacket over your arm, unable to bear the thought of leaving it behind. The horrors of what had just happened clawed at the edges of your mind, but you shoved them down, forcing yourself to move back toward the others.

Player 456 caught your gaze, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder. His eyes, filled with a sorrow you now understood, met yours.

“Nothing we did would have stopped them from killing him anyway.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, the irony of his words striking too close to home. Player 456 didn’t know what your profession was, but you were bitterly reminded of having to tell similar words to patient families in what felt like a lifetime ago. He tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face, but you shook your head, unwilling to explain.

In that moment, you decided: whatever heart you had left wasn’t meant for this place. Whatever tether you had to the world outside had already been severed.

~

When everyone returned to the sleeping quarters, it came time to vote under the watchful eyes of the pink guards. But first, they revealed the staggering amount of money accumulated so far. The sight of it gripped your heart, the endless possibilities flashing through your mind. What could you do with that prize? Pay off your debts, maybe start over. But the thought soured quickly—even with that money, would it be enough?

As Player 149 and her son, 007, begged among others to be released, you couldn’t help but avert your gaze. A guilty knot tightened in your stomach. Their desperation mirrored the fear you tried to bury deep inside yourself.

The lights dimmed, casting an eerie glow over the room. The blue O and red X on opposite walls illuminated the fine line players were forced to cross after their vote. The tension was suffocating as you turned the question over in your mind: Did you want to go home? Could you even go home?

The emptiness that brought you here clawed at you, a cold, relentless reminder of what awaited you beyond these walls. The fear of returning with nothing—of your share not being enough—fueled your indecision. But was it worth dying for?

Numbers swirled in your mind, an ache reverberating through your chest. And then it hit you: the crushing weight of your debts had left you feeling dead already.

“Player 175,” the guard called.

Your heart sank as the reality of your turn struck.

Walking up the aisle, every pair of eyes burned into your back. Your chest rose and fell unevenly with each step, eager to end the torment. But even when faced with the podium, your hand hesitated over the buttons.

The image of the pregnant girl, the mother, and Player 444’s blood on your jacket haunted you. It went against everything you believed in. And yet, survival instinct whispered a selfish truth you couldn’t ignore: this wasn’t about them. It was about you.

Your clammy hand jerked forward to press the O button.

The buzz of confirmation rang out, and you grabbed the blue patch without looking back. Cries of joy and sorrow mixed in the air as the O’s pulled ahead. Returning to your place, you clenched your jaw, ignoring the murmurs of gratitude from those who’d chosen to stay.

You didn’t do it for them.

“You can’t do this! Come to your senses!” Player 456’s voice rang out, breaking through the noise.

You lifted your head to see him running to the center of the room, desperation etched into his features.

“We have to get out of here! We need the majority vote so we can go home!”

The weight of his plea pressed on you, but the arguments that followed were deafening. Player 100 shot back, “Did they put you down here to act like a player and rile us all up?”

Accusations flew, tensions rising as players shouted over each other. The pink guards stood stoically, like silent sentinels overseeing the chaos. Just when it seemed the room would boil over, Player 149 ran forward, her voice cutting through the noise.

“If it were not for this gentleman, we would not be alive! Stop with the greed and put your lives first!”

Her words brought a brief silence, but it didn’t last. The room erupted once more, voices trying to challenge each other. You had hoped 456 would give up at this rate, seeing as he stood in the center of it all with a loss of words.

But then he shouted over everyone, “I only know about the games because I already played it! Three years ago! Everyone who was with me died!”

A heavy silence fell over the room. You couldn’t say you were surprised, but disbelief still rippled among you and the players. If there was any hope of getting out of here, you knew he would be the right person to stay near if these dreadful games continued. But nonetheless, player 100 threw out another accusation, a conspiracy that he had been planted here and finally, the pink guards quelled the bickering and had to continue the voting.

You watched as the line of undecided players dwindled. Each vote felt like a nail in the coffin of your resolve. Deep in thought, your vision blurred as you stared at the scoreboard. A movement beside you broke your focus. Player 120 stood there, her presence steady and unassuming. She had chosen to stay.

You offered a polite smile, which she returned. The two of you stood in a shared, uneasy silence as the vote drew closer to its conclusion.

“You, uh, you were quick to try and help that player earlier. It was impressive,” she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the hum of the room.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I… thank you,” you stammered. “Trying to tourniquet his leg wouldn’t have done much overall, I guess.”

The dryness of your tone surprised even you. Her wide-eyed reaction made you chuckle nervously. To your relief, she mirrored your grim humor with a quiet snicker.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I work at a hospital with a big trauma center. It… it wears you down.”

“I served for some time, so I understand,” Player 120 replied.

Despite your earlier resolve to keep to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope that she might be an ally. Among the ruthless others who had voted to stay, she seemed different—steadfast, but not cold.

Finally, the last ten players cast their votes. The air was thick with anticipation as the numbers on the scoreboard crept closer to a tie. Your heart pounded, a maddening loop of questions echoing in your mind. Then, Player 001 stepped forward.

You hadn’t thought of it til now how strange being player 001 must feel, the entire weight of the games future at his hand. He walked with a quiet confidence, his every movement deliberate. You and Player 120 leaned forward, watching intently as he reached the podium.

The soft buzz of confirmation filled the room as he pressed the O button. The scoreboard shifted, casting the room in a faint blue glow. The decision was final: the games would continue.

The cheers from some players were a stark contrast to the defeated cries of others. You swallowed hard, your gaze drifting to the crowd that had wanted to go home. Their anguish was a sharp reminder of what you had chosen to forsake. It was your job to heal people, to care for them in their darkest moments.

But as you turned your head back toward the front, your gaze landed on the newest arrival to your side of the games. The reveal of Player 001s face hit you like a jolt of whiplash and your breath got caught in your throat.

It had been so long since you’d seen him that, for a moment, you wondered if it was a trick of the dim light. His face was older now, shadows playing across his features in the red and blue glow. But it was him. There was no mistaking it.

He hadn’t noticed you yet. The crowd around him welcomed him as though he were any other player. You stood frozen on the ground that was pulled out from beneath you, unsure whether to hide or step forward. But when he began retreating to the O side, his eyes finally found yours.

It felt like fire across your chest when you noticed that he recognized you.

He stopped mid-step, only a few yards away now. Something invisible seemed to tether him to the spot as his gaze burned into you.

“In Ho?” you whispered, the name barely audible over the noise.

You weren’t even sure he could hear it, but it slipped out anyway.

His face tensed, the muscles of his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his expression neutral. But the name had reached him.

“Y/N,” he said finally, the words heavy, almost forced.

Whatever you had thought you were fighting for before—money, survival—was irrelevant now. In Ho’s presence brought back a piece of your life you had long buried. Now, it stood before you, trapped in this brutal game of life and death.

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes — 29. sweet dreams (half-written)

your roommate yujin is back home during winter break, so when you return to your shared dorm it's just you and silence. a soft sigh leaves your lips as you set your things down before heading to the bathroom to unwind and change into something comfier.

before you do so, you make sure to send a text to hanni, keeping a mental note to check your notifications after.

(as if you don't already wait eagerly for her texts.)

when you're done, you're met with a lovely notification from hanni that says 'i can call when you can :)' and smile at the screen.

almost without thinking, you quickly check how you look in the mirror. your hair is still a little damp, which stains the gray t-shirt you have on just a bit. you run a hand through your hair before sitting on your bed comfortably. you press the 'facetime' icon, though not without hesitating a bit.

the ringtone echoes through your room as you lean back against your bedframe, with your blanket covering you perfectly. you decide to grab the guitar sitting beside your bed while you wait, setting it beside you on the mattress. you did have some ideas for a song earlier.

you glance at the screen, waiting for hanni to pick up. the anticipation makes you all giddy.

when the call finally connects, the first thing you see is her forehead filling up half of the screen.

you chuckle. "...hello?"

"oh, hang on," she mutters, adjusting the camera until her whole face comes into view. she's in a t-shirt as well, her hair slightly tousled before, and she offers a sheepish grin. "hi."

"hey," you reply, smiling at the screen. "nice view of your forehead earlier, by the way."

she rolls her eyes but smiles anyway, settling into her bed. "i was getting comfortable, okay? not everyone can be ready for a close-up 24/7."

"you're an idol, though," you tease, setting your phone down and grabbing your guitar. "isn't that like, in the job description?"

"funny." she says flatly, though there's a hint of amusement in her tone.

she watches you strum lazily, only the neck of your guitar, your fingers, and your face in view as the sound fills the call. you pluck at the strings idly, creating random chords and humming softly to a tune that you made up earlier in the day.

the conversation drifts easily—catching up about your week, her recounting an interview she did earlier in the day, and how they recorded a 'jeans zine.'

"it's always a bit hectic," she admits, tucking her knees up to her chest. "but fun. i think this one's going to be really cute, it's a special for new years."

"i'll make sure to watch it. i watched your christmas one not too long ago, very cute." you say absentmindedly, still experimenting with a melody. "and your interview?"

"oh, the usual. promotions with 'ditto' and 'omg,' inspirations, what we've been up to. sometimes it's weird to me, like, talking about my life like it's newsworthy."

"it is," you tease lightly. "you're an idol, remember? and just you as a person, you're really interesting."

"right," she laughs softly. "anyway, how was your week?"

"ah, i just spent most of it with a friend from home. but it's been hectic too." you reply, "with yunjin's song out, me being on the credits, and her like—soft launching me? i've gotten a lot of attention and more support. it's really cool, but there's so much going on, especially on twitter, tiktok, and instagram."

"that's funny. i'm glad you're getting recognition, you deserve it."

"aw, thank you hanni."

there's a lull, but it's comfortable. hanni watches you as you hum a tune under your breath, occasionally pausing to scribble something in a notebook beside you.

"do you always multitask like this?" she asks, resting her cheek on her knee.

"too often," you admit, glancing at her through the screen. "am i boring you? maybe you should sleep, i don't want to keep you up like this."

"no, no. it's fine, i don't mind at all." she says quickly, almost too quickly, and you swear you catch the faintest blush creeping up her cheeks. it could also be the light, though. "it's... relaxing, actually. i really like this."

you don't respond, instead, you opt for a simple grin. you keep playing, trying to focus on the chords and not the way her gaze lingers on you.

"hey... y/n?" hanni says after a while, earning your attention.

"yeah?"

"we're still on for wednesday, right?"

"of course."

"right, just making sure." hanni mutters, shifting herself so she can lay down on the bed comfortably. there's a small, content grin resting on her lips.

conversation slows, her responses become softer, and you've found a little scrap of a song throughout the call. there's a stretch of silence when you run the song back, humming a melody and singing whatever lyrics come to your mind.

you glance back at your phone minutes later to see that hanni's out. her eyes are closed and her head rests against her arm.

"hanni?" you whisper, but there's no response. she's asleep, her soft breaths barely heard through the phone. you try again once more, whispering another, "hanni?" but she doesn't stir.

you smile to yourself. "goodnight hanni," you say softly, letting her sleep as you continue to strum quietly, filling the silence with your voice.

it's odd, you think. you've known hanni for a short amount of time, yet even after a few hours during the late hours at night and a few texts—something about your friendship seems right.

hanni being an addition to your life seems perfect.

—

masterlist ; previous - next

taglist ! @namojoon @ly-gushka @layonaiguess @sonotcopingatall @artrizzler19 @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @nwjnsloona @saysirhc @nimnia @somedaydream @trovao-penguins @modanisgf @c-yerim @starstruckgoateepuppy @tzuyusdoughnut @kaypanaq @peranoo @haerinkisser @electronicluminarycoffee @yoohtonyy @secretcessy @keiji-jin @awkwardtoafault @syronns @linnnsworld @inybits @ynwrites

[weatheringandweary]

The “Jason died to teach Apollo empathy” take reallllly bothers me, because… no..? That’s not what happened..??

Ignoring the fact that Apollo was willing to take his own life minutes before in an attempt to save Meg, Piper, and Jason - he’s been putting his life on the line for others since THO.

You can make the argument that the only reason he went after Kayla and Austin was because they were his kids if you want, but even throughout The Dark Prophecy he was willing to die if it meant saving someone else. He went out of his way to save Lityerses despite the fact he was his enemy, he straight up admitted to Trophonius that he was willing to die for Meg even though she betrayed him for Nero in the prior book, and then he went back to fight for the Waystation with a broken arm because they went through so much effort in supporting him through his trials. It’s actually baffling just how easy it is for him to fall in love with humanity, it’s not something he had to learn!

Jason had stuck his neck out for Apollo in BOO because he saw injustice. He knew Zeus was looking for a scapegoat and he used what little power he had against the king of the gods to try to spare his half-brother. Jason knew that even though he had been nothing but loyal to the gods and had saved the world twice over (cough cough fighting a titan bare handed and defeating Gaea alongside the seven cough cough), he was still just a cog in the system. He was only mortal. The most change he could make to the status-quo was ensuring that the other minor gods were represented in Camp Jupiter, but then he was issued a death sentence months later, so what power did he have really?

But you know who could make a difference?

Apollo. Apollo could.

The thing is, as much as Apollo complained about being a mortal, I honestly believe he would have rejected godhood had Jason not died. He had almost died several times over and the only one who offered him any Olympian assistance was his sister. He resented the Olympians for having all the power in the world and choosing to use none of it to help him or his friends. Apollo's biggest fear - one that overruled dying in my opinion - was becoming a god again, once again a puppet of his father, and falling back into his old ways out of fear and self-preservation.

I can't even count the amount of times where he was on the brink of death and felt relief and satisfaction at the thought of everything being over. He didn't want to die, but it was an escape from having to one day stand up against his father, his abuser. It was the easier alternative even if it was ultimately the worse one.

But Jason made him promise to keep going. To remember.

He had to get back to Olympus, remember all that has been sacrificed in order to return him to godhood so that he could make a better future. He has to live forever to ensure that generation after generation of demigods have someone supporting them indefinitely. So that they would not be as fearful and powerless as he was. He has to be immortal again so that he can use his power for good, as much as that scares him.

He had to become a god so he can look Zeus in the eyes and say "No, this is never happening again."

That's what Apollo learned.

[tootiecakes234]

Busy

NSFW(MDNI) ; Character Aged Up

Kinda fluffy, kinda smutty...

It was Saturday afternoon and you were on the couch all comfy. You had cleaned and cooked dinner. Now you were impatiently waiting for your boyfriend to get home.

The two of you have been dating for 2 and a half years now and living together for 6 months. You decided to take that step because you wanted more time together. Between your job and Katsuki's as a pro hero, you guys were always trying to find time for each other. Moving in had made this a lot better, but this past month has really been hell.

Kat left for a week on a mission out of the country, and a day after after he got back, you had to leave for a business trip for a few days. As soon as you thought the worst was over, there was attack after attack from the League of Villains. He was getting called in to work even on his days off.

The time apart was driving the both of you a little crazy. Your mood has been down and you haven't wanted to do much besides stay at home and sulk. You knew Katsuki was getting to a breaking point because you were hearing more complaints about him than usual.

He'd never admit it, but you are a big factor in him keeping his attitude in check. You had a very calming affect on him, so when he goes too long without real time with you, he reverts back to his asshole tendencies.

You are completely caught up in your show, when you hear the front door slam shut.

“Katsuki, why are slamming the door?” All you hear is him in the walkway tugging off his boots and grumbling to himself.

You get up and walk over to where is and all the frustration on his face starts to melt as soon as his eyes land on you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as you walk over to him and slide your hands into his sweaty hair. “You stink ‘suki”

“Wow thanks. I just worked an 8 hour shift kicking ass all day” he rolls his eyes, “sorry hard work doesn’t smell good.

Even though you complain you don’t move away from him. You feel like you haven’t seen him more than an hour at a time recently.

“You should shower and then come out and eat. I made your favorite for dinner.”

“Yeah, I smelled it outside the door and my mouth was watering. I didn’t have time to eat lunch today.” He says a little hesitantly because you’ve chewed him out more than once over skipping meals when he puts his body through so much.

And you probably would have again, if you didn’t see the exhaustion in his face.

“Then do you wanna eat first, then shower. I don’t want you to pass out in there.”

“If you shower with me you can keep watch. Make sure I make it out alive.” He says as sweetly as he can muster right now.

And you do shower with him. You end up washing his hair for him and giving his shoulders a little massage that almost puts him to sleep standing up.

After that you get dressed and go dinner plated for the both of you. While you’re in the kitchen Katsuki hangs off of you like a backpack everywhere you go refusing to let you go.

You have 0 complaints to offer because you’re both touch starved by this point.

You end up eating thigh to thigh in the living room on the floor with some trashy show on. Katsuki inhaling his food in 3 bites and then nodding off while you attempt to finish yours as fast as you can before you completely lose him.

You get up and take the plates to the kitchen and Katsuki is standing at the bedroom door waiting on you.

“Baby, I’m not really sleepy yet. If you want to lay down, I’ll come in a little later.”

“We’re not going to sleep yet. I haven’t held you,awake anyways, or been inside you in almost 2 weeks.” He comes over and starts pulling into the bedroom. “I have a plan. First, I’m gonna make you cum… on my mouth. Then I’m gonna make both of us cum with me inside you.” By this point, you can already feel the wetness starting to pool inside your undies.

“And then, depending on how much energy I have left, I might repeat steps number one and two” this makes you giggle a little and his eyes are twinkling and mischievous. More bright and alive than you’ve seen them since he got home.

“By then, I promise, you’ll be so exhausted all you’ll wanna do is cuddle with me until we pass out.”

“You’re really cocky for someone that was just falling asleep. You probably won’t even have enough energy to complete step one”

By then he has you right on the edge of the bed. He pushes you so you fall back against the mattress with light “uumph”

You look up at him standing there all shirtless and sweatpants hanging low, and the hard outline in those sweatpants.

You think to yourself He might not have to touch to complete step one.

“Y/N the world would have to fuckin spontaneously combust to make me deviate from this plan.” He says as he crawls over you on the bed. “Now, you can either slide these fucking shorts off or I can tear them off you. Your choice.

*little did you know that Katsuki turned off both of your phones while you were in the kitchen and his work phone. He was being literal when he said nothing was getting in the way of this… not tonight. You he would MAKE time for.

Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist

*ummmm this was long but I’m trying to find my groove so…. Thanks for baring with me🤭

[novaursa]

The Dragon's Curse

- Summary: He loved you despite knowing he would never have you.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Brynden Rivers

- Note: Keep in mind how some things may have been changed from the canon, and any inconsistencies you notice are on purpose to compliment the narrative of this story.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (blood, gore, violence)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The chill of the evening air seeped into the stone walls of the Red Keep as you sat by the hearth in your chambers, the flickering flames casting shadows on the silver of your hair. The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the scratching of a quill as you composed a letter. The soft fur-lined cloak draped over your shoulders framed you like an artist's masterpiece, your features illuminated in the warm glow of the firelight.

Brynden Rivers stood silently in the doorway, his dark, brooding gaze fixed on you. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too engrossed in your writing. His chest tightened as he took you in, your familiar presence stirring emotions he could no longer deny.

“Why must it be you?” The thought gnawed at him relentlessly, the bitter truth of it threatening to unman him. You were his sister by blood, his equal in both fire and ice, but the heart cares little for titles or propriety. The gods, cruel and capricious, had cursed him to love you. And yet, for all his cunning and resolve, Brynden Rivers, the master of shadows, had no strategy for this war within himself.

He stepped into the room at last, his boots soft against the stone floor. You looked up, surprised but not alarmed. A small smile curved your lips, a sight that could bring kingdoms to ruin, though you remained blissfully unaware of the effect it had on him.

“Brynden,” you said warmly, setting your quill aside. “I thought you’d be skulking about the council chambers or locked away in some dark corner of the library.”

“Do I skulk, then?” he replied, his tone light but his eyes betraying the heaviness in his heart. He walked closer, his long white hair trailing behind him like a specter. His eyes— the color of fresh blood—lingered on you as though committing every detail to memory.

You laughed softly, a sound like bells on a crisp morning. “You are the Bloodraven, are you not? Isn’t skulking in your nature?”

He couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at his lips, but it faded as quickly as it came. He stopped before the fire, hands clasped behind his back. “What are you writing?” he asked, more to distract himself than out of curiosity.

“A letter to Daeron,” you replied, gesturing to the parchment. “He frets over my welfare as if I were still a child. I thought I’d ease his mind.”

Brynden nodded, though his jaw tightened at the mention of your elder brother. Of course Daeron would fret over you; who wouldn’t? You were the jewel of the Targaryen line, a creature of beauty and grace wrapped in Valyrian steel. Brynden had seen the way men looked at you—the way Daemon Waters, that charming fool, lingered too long in your company, the way even Baelor Breakspear treated you with a deference bordering on reverence. It filled Brynden with a fury he could barely contain, though he had no right to feel it.

“Daeron is right to worry,” he said, his voice lower now. “The court is full of snakes, and not all wear their venom openly.”

You tilted your head, studying him with those lilac eyes that seemed to pierce through his very soul. “And you, Brynden? Do you worry for me too?”

He froze. The question was innocent enough, but it struck him like a blade. Did he worry for you? Of course he did. He worried for your safety, for your happiness, for the day someone else might take you away from him forever. But his worry wasn’t born of a brother’s duty. It was something far darker, something shameful.

“Always,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your expression softened, and you reached out to touch his hand. The gesture was innocent—sisterly—but it set his skin ablaze. He wanted to pull away, to shield you from the storm raging within him, but he couldn’t move. Your touch was his undoing.

“Brynden,” you said, your voice gentler now. “You’ve been so distant of late. Is something troubling you?”

He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Many things trouble me, sister. That is the curse of a bastard, is it not? To carry burdens that are not entirely yours.”

You frowned, your hand tightening on his. “You are not just a bastard. You are a Targaryen, Brynden. You are my brother. You are…” You trailed off, as if searching for the right words. “You are more than you believe yourself to be.”

He looked at you then, truly looked at you, and felt the last of his resolve crumbling. He wanted to tell you everything—that you were his light in the darkness, his solace in a world of treachery and lies. But he couldn’t. To love you was to curse you, to drag you into the shadows where he dwelled.

Instead, he stepped back, breaking the contact. “You are kind, sister, but you do not know what you say.”

Your brow furrowed, concern etched across your face. “Brynden—”

“Enough,” he said sharply, his voice like a whip. Regret washed over him the moment he saw the hurt in your eyes, but he turned away before he could falter. “It is late. You should rest.”

Without another word, he left the room, his heart a storm of longing and despair. As he walked the shadowed halls of the Red Keep, he knew he would carry this secret to his grave.

For what chance did a creature like him have to love something as pure and untouchable as you? His love was a fire, and you were the dragon; yet even dragons burned when the fire raged too hot.

The raven arrived at dawn, its wings streaked with the ash-gray of storm clouds. Brynden stood at the window of his solar, the letter clutched in his hand, its contents sharp enough to draw blood. The words swam before his eyes, written in a hurried hand that reeked of desperation. His breathing was shallow, his mismatched gaze locked on the jagged lines of the Blackwater Bay beyond.

You were gone. Stolen.

Daemon Blackfyre, legitimized bastard of Aegon IV and the shadow that loomed over Brynden’s existence, had taken you. Not merely taken—you were wed. A quiet ceremony, the raven reported, held under the banners of the pretender's house. Brynden's grip on the letter tightened until the parchment threatened to tear, his mind racing with visions he could not unsee.

“Brynden?” A soft voice called from the doorway, but he did not turn. It was Shiera, her tone cautious, almost hesitant—a rarity for her. She knew, as she always did. Her presence in the room only sharpened the knife twisting in his chest.

“He dared,” Brynden said, his voice low, cold as the Narrow Sea in winter. “That coward dared to lay his hands on her.”

Shiera stepped closer, her crimson gown rustling like whispers in the dark. “It was not unexpected, was it? Daemon has always craved what you value most. This… marriage… is just another way to wound you.”

Her words were oil on the fire raging in his chest. He turned to face her, his face a mask of fury barely contained. “She is not some trinket to be used in his petty games, Shiera. She is…” His voice broke, the words he could never say threatening to spill forth.

Shiera raised a dark brow, her expression unreadable. “She is your sister.”

Brynden flinched as if struck. It was the truth, the one fact that made this torment so unbearable. You were his sister, and that bond should have been enough to temper his feelings. But it wasn’t. It never had been.

“You know it isn’t that simple,” he said bitterly, turning away again.

“No, it never is with you,” Shiera replied, her voice softening. She placed a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but firm. “If you love her, Brynden, then act. Sitting here in the shadows won’t bring her back.”

He shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. “She is beyond my reach now. Daemon will ensure that.”

Shiera’s laugh was sharp, almost cruel. “Beyond your reach? You are Bloodraven, master of whispers and shadows. Daemon may have stolen her, but he hasn’t won. Not yet.”

Brynden didn’t respond, his thoughts a whirlwind of anger, regret, and despair. He could see it now, the image burned into his mind: you, standing beside Daemon, your pale hair entwined with his, your lilac eyes dimmed by the weight of the choice forced upon you. Did you go willingly, he wondered, or did Daemon drag you into this as he had dragged others into his rebellion?

The thought of your smile—so warm, so full of life—now belonging to Daemon Blackfyre was more than he could bear.

“What would you have me do, Shiera?” he asked, his voice raw. “Storm his camp? Kill him in cold blood? What would that make me? A brother who loves his sister too much, or a bastard no better than him?”

Shiera studied him, her gaze piercing as always. “It would make you a man who fights for what he cannot live without. Or,” she added, her voice softening, “it would make you a man who knows when to let go.”

Brynden recoiled at the thought. Let go? Of you? He had tried, gods knew he had tried, but it was as futile as holding back the tide. You were the sun in his shadowed world, the one thing that made his cursed existence bearable. Without you, what was he? A ghost haunting the halls of the Red Keep, a puppet master with no heart to guide his strings.

But he also knew the truth. If he went after you, it wouldn’t be for justice or even love. It would be for vengeance. Vengeance against Daemon, against the cruel twist of fate that made you his sister when his heart screamed for you to be something more.

He turned back to Shiera, his decision made. “Send word to my spies. I want to know where they are, every step they take.”

Shiera’s lips curved into a sly smile. “And when you find them? What then?”

Brynden’s gaze was as cold and unyielding as the shadow of the wall behind him. “Then, I’ll decide what kind of man I am.”

As Shiera left, the room fell silent once more. Brynden moved to the hearth, staring into the flames as if they held the answers he sought. The fire crackled and hissed, its light dancing in his eyes.

“You are mine,” he whispered, the words a vow, a curse, and a plea all at once. “Even if the gods will it otherwise, even if the world turns against me, you are mine.”

And though he knew his love for you was doomed, though he knew it would destroy him in the end, he swore he would not let Daemon Blackfyre win. Not this time. Not with you.

The battlefield was chaos—a sea of blood and fire, steel and screams. Brynden’s cloak billowed behind him as he dismounted his pale mare, his eye scanning the carnage with keen precision. The crimson of Blackfyre clashed with those of the crown, black dragons rippling in the smoky air. Yet amidst the maelstrom, his focus was singular.

You.

You were there, somewhere, caught between two forces too cruel for love to soften. You had been dragged into this war, a pawn in Daemon’s rebellion, and Brynden had sworn to get you out. He had promised himself—promised you—that he would not let fate take you.

But fate, it seemed, was indifferent to his promises.

His spies had found you at last—at the edge of the battlefield, atop a ridge overlooking the slaughter. Daemon’s men surrounded you, and though you bore no blade, Brynden could see the steel in your eyes even from afar. You were always brave, always defiant, even now when the world seemed poised to crumble around you.

He spurred his mare forward, cutting through the fray with lethal precision. His sword was an extension of his will, cutting down any who dared to stand in his path. Blood splattered across his pale skin, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but reaching you.

As he neared, he saw Daemon dismount, his black armor glinting in the fading sunlight. The pretender’s greatsword, Blackfyre, gleamed in his hand as he turned to you, his expression a mix of anger and desperation. Brynden could hear their voices now, faint but unmistakable.

“You’re mad to stay here, woman,” Daemon growled, his voice cutting as the steel he wielded. “You’ll die with them, do you understand? You’ll die because he—” He pointed his blade in the direction of the chaos, where Brynden’s crimson eye burned like a beacon. “Because he will not stop!”

You stood tall, unyielding even in the face of Daemon’s wrath. “I chose to stay,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging around you. “I chose to fight for what I believe, Daemon. You cannot force me to be something I am not.”

Brynden’s heart twisted at your words, pride warring with panic. You were brave, too brave, and it would cost you everything.

“Enough!” he roared as he reached the ridge, his voice cutting through the din. He dismounted in a rush, his boots crunching against the rocky ground as he advanced on the two of you. His sword was raised, its edge glinting with blood and fire. “Step away from her, Daemon.”

Daemon turned, his eyes narrowing as a cruel smile curled his lips. “Ah, the shadow himself. Come to play the hero, have you? What will you do, Brynden? Kill me? Will you stain your hands with your sister’s blood, too?”

Brynden ignored him, his gaze locked on you. “Come with me,” he pleaded, his voice low but urgent. “There’s still time. I can get you away from this madness. Away from him.”

You hesitated, your expression flickering with something he couldn’t quite place. Regret? Pain? Or was it something deeper, something he had never dared to hope for?

But before you could respond, Daemon stepped between you. “She’s made her choice, Rivers. You think you can claim her now, after everything?” He sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “You’re too late.”

Brynden lunged, his sword striking against Daemon’s with a deafening clang. The two men clashed, their movements a brutal dance of fury and desperation. Blackfyre against steel, brother against brother, shadow against flame.

You shouted for them to stop, your voice breaking over the sound of their blades, but neither listened. They were consumed, two sides of the same cursed coin, both fighting for something that could never truly be theirs.

It happened too fast.

Daemon feinted to the left, and Brynden lunged too far. The pretender twisted, his blade arcing wide—and then, suddenly, there was silence.

The sound of steel hitting flesh. A gasp.

Brynden froze, his sword falling from his hand as he turned to see you standing between them. Blackfyre’s blade protruded from your chest, its dark steel slick with blood.

Your blood.

Daemon’s eyes widened in horror, and he stumbled back, releasing the hilt. You fell to your knees, your hands clutching the wound as crimson stained your gown.

“No,” Brynden whispered, rushing to your side. He caught you before you hit the ground, cradling you against him as if his arms alone could hold your soul to this world. “No, no, no. Gods, no.”

You looked up at him, your lilac eyes clouded with pain but still achingly familiar. “Brynden,” you whispered, your voice weak but steady. “It’s… all right.”

“It’s not,” he choked, his eye brimming with tears. “It’s not all right. Stay with me. Please.”

Your hand, trembling and bloodstained, reached up to touch his face. “You were always the better man,” you said, your lips curving into the faintest smile. “Don’t let this… break you.”

Your hand fell away, your eyes sliding shut as your body went limp in his arms.

Brynden stared down at you, the world around him fading into nothing. You were gone. The one light in his shadowed existence, extinguished.

Daemon stood frozen, his expression a mask of anguish. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw with grief and rage. “This is your doing, Rivers. You brought her to this. You killed her.”

Brynden didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The world was ash and silence, and all he could feel was the weight of your lifeless body in his arms.

For the first time in his life, Brynden Rivers—the master of whispers, the shadow of the realm—was truly and utterly lost.

[writingwrongwjc]

First Date With the Munson Boy

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: maybe slight angst for a second otherwise all fluff!!

“Should I wear this one or the red one?” You look past yourself in the mirror at Steve and Robin lying on your bed. Steve looks up hastily from the magazine but gives no response. Instead offering a lost expression

“Why are you even going on a date with this guy again?”

Robin props herself up, throwing the nearest object she can find toward Steve.

“Dude you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I’m being honest he’s kinda… well he is a freak.”

“He’s... sweet.” You say, swinging around toward them; making sure your dress swishes as you do so.

“Plus I could make fun of you for so many girls… Linda!” Robin Chimes in.

“Okay, glasses Linda? That’s not fair becau-” Steve begins to ramble but you interject before his poor excuses can manifest themselves.

“You guys! You are no help.” You throw your hands in the air, flailing the dresses as you move.

“Red.”

“Red!”

They both say in unison. Given their struggles with finding love, and your growing irritation you opted for the white dress.

“Mmm it’s classy.” you quip, leaving the room to put on the dress.

How you met Eddie is a story you’d rather not share with them just yet. Although Steve and Robin are your best friends they don’t exactly know about your habitual love for Mary Jane. They know you’ve smoked before, even trying a little for themselves when drunk and adventurous. You have just been embarrassed to admit that you enjoy the little herb, and many of the outcasts that come with it on a consistent basis. One such outcast is the man who started to sell it to you in the first place, Eddie Munson. Town Outcast, drug dealer, and according to neighborhood moms; occultist! After you started buying from him more the two of you started to hang out in those woods more consistently, even when you didn’t want to buy, but knew he’d be back there.

“We can’t keep meeting this way.” He’d say one day, cocking his head with a gentle smile.

“No? Then maybe you should take me out somewhere?” You cocked your head back at him with a slight of mischief on your face.

So now, you stand in your living room all dolled up to go out with the Munson boy.

“He’ll be here any second you guys need to leave! Go!” You shout, pushing Steve and Robin out the front door; giggling as they shuffle through at the same time.

“Have fun!”

“Don’t get murdered!”

“Oh yeah. Use protection!”

Not even a minute later Eddie pulls up in his beat down old van blaring some Iron Maiden song. Rather than allowing him to retrieve you from the house you meet him at the curb so that your parents don’t berate him about where he’s taking you and what his intentions are. He stumbles over his own feet in an effort to reach the van door before you can.

“Your chariot awaits you.” He bows, hand still on the door, eyes lingering on your form for a moment. “You uh, wow.” He says, shaking his head in disbelief releasing a huff of air. “You look amazing.”

“Oh thank you,” you say blushing at his genuine comment. He shuts your door hard, galloping over to the driver’s side, jumping into the seat. The music is now at a comforting volume rather than its usual roar.

“So, where are you taking me?”

“I was thinking we could hit some takeout, then drive out to the quarry and have a bit of a soiree?” Eddie seemed unsure of his idea now that he’s presenting it to you.

“Who knew you were a romantic Eddie!”

“I just, I thought that the stars would be brighter out there, and… you wouldn’t have to actually be seen with me.”

The street lights lit up the sadness glistening in his eyes, although he hid it well under his vibrant expressions and smiles toward you as he spoke.

“If I didn’t want to be seen with you I wouldn’t go out with you, dummy.” You jabbed him in the side in order to lighten his mood.

“I yearn for adventure! There’s no adventure in a drive in. Just making out before you're ready.”

He laughs vibrantly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he palms the steering wheel. Quicker than you thought that you would, you arrived at the quarry with takeout cheeseburgers in hand.

Eddie parked at the edge of the water away from the main road. As romantic as it truly was, Steve's words popped back in your head for a moment: “Don’t get murdered.” Not that Eddie would hurt you, just the fact of how dark it is way out here and the colorful history of the area. It's peaceful, but in an eerie way. While you’re thinking about how eerie it is Eddie got into the back of his van to grab a blanket.

“Here it is! Only the finest silks for a lady.” He approaches you staring into the darkness. “Oh. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah! It’s just dark out here. Spooky.” You wiggled your fingers at him when you said the word spooky. You take the blanket from him and turn to find a spot while he turns on some music.

“Okay so options, killer options by the way. We have Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Dio, Slayer. Oh I have my guilty pleasure prince tape! Or, behind door number three, surprise mix! I have no Idea what’s on this one, I think I was high when I made it or it’s like one of those things where we listen to it and a quest starts”

He holds up each cassette tape like a salesman attempting to get your buy. You couldn’t help but admire his features, complimented so well by a nice leather jacket, cleaner, sturdier than his usual jacket but it suits him so well.

“Door number three, Surprise me! Now come eat, it's getting soggy!”

“Oh one more thing!” he leans into the van once more sliding the cassette into place then reaching to grab something. The first song on the surprise cassette is certainly a surprise to you. Africa by Toto.

He holds up a small hand rolled joint with a crooked grin on his face.

“We’ll save it for dessert!” you say as he sits beside you on the blanket warming the brisk air.

“Oh I thought I was gonna have something else for dessert.” He looks you up and down, biting his lip slyly. Not sly enough, you push his face away from you.

“Eddie! Who do you think I am?”

Rather than taking your shove for what it was he threw himself to the ground with haste feigning injury. Making you burst into laughter from his theatrics. Sitting up again he looks at you with puppy’s eyes.

“I meant Ice Cream, freak. We can go get some ice cream!”

“Oh yeah sure you did, but I’ll hold you to that now.”

After stuffing your mouths and talking a bit in between, Eddie lights up the joint offering you the first hit. You can feel his eyes on your lips as you draw in the smoke. His gaze is soft and his eyes dart across the entirety of your face. As you go to hand him the lit joint you hear a crackle in the woods beside you. Reacting with instinct you gasp harshly scooting your body closer to his, dropping the joint onto the blanket.

“Oh. shit.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

The two or you scramble to pick it up and snuff out the embers, tangling into one another while doing so. Your arm is now hooked around Eddie’s bent leg and his arm under yours, hand resting on the tops of your knees. The tension between the two of you is palpable but you both laugh off what just happened, especially since the weed is now settling into your system.

“You’re honestly such a mage.” Eddies says out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

“I was just thinking if you were a class in D&D it would be mage.”

“I have no idea what that is.” You say looking at him confused but eager to learn more.

He takes the time to thoroughly explain the D&D classes and other game mechanics you didn’t fully understand but thoroughly enjoys the enthusiastic expression on his face while he explains something he loves.

“Basically, they’re very versatile in their magic, like you. Pretty, funny, smart, it's all magic!”

“So would you be a bard then, because they play instruments?” The glow leaves Eddie's eyes and his expression drops, pouting his bottom lip out slightly.

“Well, they play lutes and stuff, it's not the same.”

“I mean sure it is, your electric guitar is just a way cooler version of a lute.”

“There’s more to it than that I’m more of a rogue.” He stands up, broadening his shoulders, with an over dramatic sneaky look on his face.

“Whatever you say, oh great D&D expert!” You hop onto your knees fanning your arms up and down at him. “I dare not question thee. Forgive me my Lord.” Sarcasm thickens with each word.

“I’ll forgive you, fair Lady. Stand!” Eddie poses himself as a king making his decree. “On one condition!”

You stand to your feet with a bit of a wobble, choking back a giggle as the song that is playing ends and the song Hungry Eyes comes on.

“That is?”

Suddenly the air shifts. No longer do you feel playful, but a tickle of anxiety. Nothing surrounds the two of you now. Eddies searches for words to say but can’t think of a royal decree. He crosses his arms loosely.

“Man I suck at this.”

“Or you're distracted.” you offer up walking closer to him until your hands meet his shoulders. The leather cold under your palms. He lets his arms unfold, grabbing you by the small of your back.

“Yeah that’s-” He trails off nervously. You can feel his shaky warm breath amid the cool autumn air.

“Next time I want to go to the most popular spot in town.”

“Next time?” He smiles.

“Yes next time, dummy.”

You slide your hand onto his jawline and then to the base of his neck, burying your fingers into his mess of brown hair. He leans forward slightly, pausing just before he kisses you allowing you to direct the moment. You pull his head closer to yours, your lips crashing together sweetly. His lips full and passionate yet not hungry for more instead satisfied in the moment. You linger in the kiss allowing passion to blossom. When you pull away you linger close to one another, Eddie’s deep brown eyes locked onto your’s, his cheeks are full of color, and his lips forcing themselves upward.

The sweet silence is finally disrupted when you speak up,

“Did you know this mixtape is full of love songs?”

He says nothing, instead stifling laughter as he pulls away from you unable to hide his expression.

“You did, you sneak! Surprise, door number three my ass!”

“So how bout that ice cream, my lady?”

Authors Note: Steddie and Stucky Fics are coming soon! I know I write a lot of x reader but I am workin on others as well!!